


The Good Days

by Danceswithfiends



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 14 years old, 18 years old, Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Consensual Underage Sex, Eventual Plot, Fluff and Smut, Like, M/M, Mean John Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, REALLY eventual, Right Now It's Just Porn, Rough Sex, Sexual exploration, Sibling Incest, Slow Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Tags May Change, Teen!Dean, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, much later, not exactly an au, teen!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-05 14:52:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 89,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10310705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danceswithfiends/pseuds/Danceswithfiends
Summary: 'His stomach jumps at these small glimpses of Dean, and he tries to push it down, but thoughts of Dean bending him over in the back seat of the car flood his brain anyway. Sam swallows heavily and looks away, trying to focus intently on the road. If this doesn’t stop soon, Sam is going to go absolutely nuts.'The sexcapades of Sam and Dean's relationship in its early days and the days that follow.





	1. It's About Time

**Author's Note:**

> Wow am I nervous to post this! I've posted some of my other work on fanfiction.net, but this is my first post on AO3! Super exciting! This is also my first Wincest fic (gasp!). I'm actually a pretty new Wincest shipper, was a hardcore denier for years. Look where that got me, right? Obsessed and a mess, is where.  
> Anyway! Hope you all enjoy! I see a future for this story, in the sense that there will be lots of chapters. I see these two going through a lot, but don't worry, I'm pretty sure this whole thing is just going to be a whole lot of porn with a whole lot of no plot at all. Also, sorry in advance if there are any errors! I'll make sure to edit if I end up catching any more.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters but enjoy making them do whatever I want! Credit to the creators of SPN for these boys, credit to me for my dirty-ass ideas.
> 
> Enjoy! xx

Sam wakes up to the harsh sunlight peeking through the curtains of the motel window, his hair squished up against his face so that it’s half stuffed in his mouth. He spits out the strands of hair and wipes his face on the pillow, squinting against the sun and turning over grumpily. Why even bother to get up, anyway? Dean and his dad have been away two days longer than they said they would be, and the only reason Sam wasn’t shitting bricks was because Dean had at least had the decency to call the day before to say they were running late. And Sam was mad, really mad, because he was left alone at the motel again, having to worry about his older brother (again), and he had absolutely nothing to do. Again. He told Dean as much when he called, but Dean only chuckled and said not to worry, that they would be back in the next day or so, and to jerk off or something if he really was that bored. Sam blushed and was grateful for a moment that Dean wasn’t there to witness it.

“I only just turned 14, Dean! What the hell!” Sam half yelled into the phone. “I don’t do that shit!” That was a cold hard lie, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Dean, especially since Dean was almost the entire reason he needed to do it anyway.

Dean laughed, a short bark that made Sam’s stomach flutter. “If you say so, Sammy,” he told him. “Though God knows, by your age, I was--”

“I’m hanging up now,” Sam grumbled into the phone, his face burning.

And now here he was, staring up at the ceiling, his hair splayed out every which way, his dick twitching just thinking about how Dean told him to jerk off in that low voice of his, and the moment he had gotten off the phone, that was exactly what he had done. Thinking about it now only made Sam want to do it again.

But Sam shakes his head, trying to clear those images from his mind. He’s been having those kinds of thoughts a lot lately, ever since his body started changing, and he can’t seem to get them to stop. Sam has been missing Dean more and more every time that they’re apart, and he can’t stop thinking about the way Dean’s muscles look in a short-sleeved shirt, the way his fingers look while cleaning his guns and knives, the way his ass looks in the fabric of his jeans. Sam knows that these kinds of thoughts aren’t normal for someone to be having about their older brother, his 18-year-old older brother, but he can’t help it. He’s only 14, but he seems to be horny all the time. And it just so happens that Sam gets horny only when Dean is concerned. He really can’t help it, and he can’t seem to stop it no matter what he does. He sighs heavily, burrowing deeper under the covers. Honestly, the only good thing Sam gets out of having Dean away is that he’s able to scream Dean’s name as he jerks himself off. Not the best of consolations, but still.

But then he remembers that he woke up for a reason, and can’t remember what that reason was until he hears the all-familiar slam of a car door right outside the motel room.

Dean is home.

And his dad. Of course.

But Dean is home.

Not a second later the motel room door opens, catching on the chain of the lock, and Sam hears a grumble. 

“God dammit,” Dean mutters from behind the door, and Sam grins. “Dad, I don’t even know if Sam’s awake. That kid is such a heavy sleeper, we’ll be out here all goddamn day.”

Sam bolts out of bed and almost trip on the sheets in his haste, throwing open the lock and tearing open the door as soon as he reaches it.

“Dean!” Sam smiles wide, taking in his slightly disheveled looking older brother, standing in one piece (if not a bit dusty and scratched up), his green eyes wide and staring right back at him.

Dean walks into the room and barely plops down his bag before Sam jumps on him, hugging him tight, his arms looped around Dean’s neck and his face buried in his neck. Dean laughs his laugh, the laugh he saves just for Sam, and pats him on the back.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m back, big deal.” Dean untangles himself from Sam and holds him at arm’s length, his expression almost pained, his cheeks flushed. Sam steps back immediately in panic, cursing himself for being so rough with Dean right after a hunt.

“Did you get hurt? What’s wrong?” Sam asks, voice full of concern, looking Dean up and down for any bandages or a limp he didn’t notice before. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“Nah, Sam. I’m all good,” Dean says, walking toward the dresser farther into the room. “It was just a spirit at an old factory down in Wyoming. Nothing special, only a few bruises.” Dean turns back briefly and flashes him a smile. Sam relaxes, glad nothing serious happened. He turns toward his father to ask him if he’s okay too, but John is gone, the door already closed behind him. Sam sighs.

Of course John would be out the door the moment they got back from a hunt, going to some bar or wherever to get shit-faced drunk, even if it was only 11 o’clock in the morning. 

Sam shakes his head and attempts a smile, not wanting to think about his dad now, anyway. “Now that you’re finally back, we can do something together,” Sam says, following Dean to the dresser, where he is rummaging through the drawers for something specific. “Wanna go get breakfast? Unless dad didn’t leave the impala here…” Sam trails off, looking towards the coffee table or ledge by the door for the car keys.

“Sam?” Dean says, his voice rough, and Sam looks back towards Dean quickly at the tone of his voice, because maybe something did hurt Dean, and he just couldn’t stand it if something did.

But Dean doesn’t look hurt. In fact, he looks kind of angry, but that doesn’t make sense because everything was fine just seconds before. “Yeah, Dean?” Sam asks.

Dean clears his throat roughly. “Dammit,” he mutters, teeth clenched as he looks at Sam. Sam tilts his head in question and Dean looks away quickly, focusing on a point on the wall. “You should probably put on some clothes if you want to go out for breakfast,” he mutters before going back to rummaging. 

Sam frowns, looking down at his pair of boxers and then back at Dean. “Um, yeah, Dean. No problem.” He turns towards the drawers by his bed, confused. He’s noticed lately that Dean seems to get angry sometimes, for no reason at all, and if he didn’t know any better, Sam would think that that anger was directed at him. But he does know better, and when Dean is mad at him, he makes sure to let Sam know. Anyway, Sam is older now, and they haven’t gotten into their stupid fights in awhile. 

Sam throws on an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans, along with his pair of worn-down sneakers.

“Ready?” Dean asks, already by the door, a fresh shirt and jeans already in place on his body. Sam can’t stop himself from eyeing Dean up and down, noticing the way Dean’s jeans are tight around his thighs. His t-shirt is clinging to the muscles on his abdomen, and Sam feels his mouth get dry, his dick starting to get hard just looking at him. Dean clears his throat.

Sam snaps his head up and sees Dean has been watching him check him out, and Sam’s cheeks heat up fast. “Um, I- uh, I just—” Sam stutters, rising from the bed and almost tripping over his own feet. 

Dean shakes his head and opens the door, a small smile on his face. “Jesus, Sammy. I swear…” he trails off as he leaves the room, and Sam follows, eyes downcast, embarrassed as all hell and wondering if Dean thinks he’s creepy and weird and doesn’t even want to be his brother anymore. God, he knows he’s being an idiot for feeling this way. It’s wrong and he knows it. If someone could just tell his heart that, since it’s beating so fast in his chest he thinks the next state over might hear it. 

Sam closes the door of the room behind him and gets into the passenger seat of the impala. The drive to the nearby diner is silent, Sam occasionally glancing at Dean for just a moment, drinking in the slight stubble on his jaw, the green of his eyes as he looks at the road. His stomach jumps at these small glimpses of Dean, and he tries to push it down, but thoughts of Dean bending him over in the back seat of the car flood his brain anyway. Sam swallows heavily and looks away from Dean, trying to focus intently on the road. If this doesn’t stop soon, Sam is going to go absolutely nuts.  
__

Sam doesn’t remember much of breakfast, just that it was uneventful and consisted mostly of watching Dean wrap his lips around the bottle of his soda and trying hard not to gape at Dean like a fish. Had Dean’s lips always been so pink and full and soft-looking? Was it even possible for lips to look that good? What would it feel like to touch them? What would it feel like to kiss them? What would it feel like for Dean’s lips to wrap around his--?

“Sam?” Dean’s voice cuts through Sam’s thoughts like a knife, and Sam tries hard to prevent a deep blush from creeping onto his face. He doesn’t think he’s too successful. “You okay there, Sammy? You look like you zoned out there for a bit.”

Sam looks at Dean, who is splayed out on the couch next to him, the light of the TV hitting his face in just a way so that the stubble on his cheek is perfectly visible in the darkness of the room. The curtains are closed and the lights are off, Sam having been eager to make the room as much like a movie theater as possible. Which was a little difficult as it was only late afternoon, the sun still shining in the sky. But with a little help from Dean, they soon had the room dark enough and filled with the smells of freshly popped popcorn. The TV is playing some random movie, the best one they could find on the shitty local television stations. If someone were to ask Sam what the movie was about, he couldn’t say. He had spent the entirety of it thinking about Dean at breakfast. 

“I’m fine,” Sam answers, his voice coming out thick. He clears his throat loudly and tries again. “I’m fine, Dean. Perfectly fine.”

Dean chuckles. “If you say so.” Dean adjusts himself so his back his against the arm of the couch and spreads his legs across Sam’s lap, stretching happily as he gets comfortable. “Good movie, huh?” Dean asks.

Sam stares at Dean’s legs on his lap like he’s never seen legs before. They have been in this position countless times before, and yet for some reason, Dean’s legs seem to be really hot today, burning hot, searing through his jeans, and Sam can focus on nothing else except Dean’s legs on his lap. 

“Saaaam,” Dean singsongs. “Where are you today? You’re so out of it.” Dean nudges his leg against Sam’s lap, and all of a sudden Sam feels a deep pull in his gut and he throws Dean’s legs off of him and jumps up so fast he feels light headed. 

“I gotta—Um, I have to go, um, pee,” Sam stutters lamely, dashing for the bathroom, awkwardly stumbling over his feet in his rush.

“Sam! What the hell? Are you all right?” Dean calls after him, but Sam needs to go to the bathroom right now because his dick is impossibly hard because of Dean’s legs on his lap. Nothing even happened, Dean was completely clothed, they were watching a movie and eating popcorn and he got a goddamn boner from just his legs on his lap. What the hell was wrong with him? I’m probably going to hell Sam thinks as he slams the bathroom door and locks it. He sits on the edge of the bathtub, unbuttoning his pants furiously to jerk himself off before too much time goes by. Definitely going to hell.

Sam slips off his boxers and lets them pool around his ankles with his jeans. He wraps his hand around his length and gasps. Thinking about Dean all day definitely made him horny as hell, but this was ridiculous. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to last before Dean catches on, because it’s probably just so damn obvious what Dean does to Sam.

A soft thump at the door. “Sammy? You all right in there?”

Dean.

“Shit,” Sam mutters, scooting down the edge of the bathtub so he’s farther from the door. “I’m fine, Dean!” he manages, hoping to God that Dean doesn’t hear the slight crack of his voice.

“Sam, open up,” Dean says, his voice a bit louder. “You’re obviously not okay.” A few louder thumps against the door.

“Dean, seriously, go back to the movie. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Sam can’t help the anger that creeps into his voice. Why can’t Dean just leave him alone? He’s making everything worse. This was Dean’s fault, having to always look so good just standing there and drinking his soda with his lips and putting his goddamn legs on his lap.

“Sam,” Dean growls, thumping on the door again. 

That growl resonates throughout the entire bathroom and goes straight to Sam’s cock, growing harder than it was just a moment before. 

“Fuck,” Sam hisses, closing his eyes and stroking himself, trying to alleviate some of the pressure in his dick, but that only makes it worse. He realizes too late that he cursed a little too loud. Sam looks at the closed door in horror.

There is a silence, and then “Sam? What are you doing?” Dean doesn’t sound worried anymore. He doesn’t even sound angry like he did when he growled Sam’s name. Now he just sounds… he sounds smug. And Sam knows, he knows, that Dean knows what he is up to. But why in the hell does he sound smug?

“Peeing,” Sam says lamely, looking at his dick in his hand and wondering when the hell his life got so fucked up.

“Right,” Dean says, and Sam can practically hear the grin on his face. 

He hears Dean shuffle closer to the door and it creaks, and he can imagine Dean leaning against the door frame casually, that smile on his face, and he closes his eyes tight and tries not to move his hand, even though the thought of jerking off when Dean is so close turns him on so much it’s unbearable.

“Are your pants unbuttoned yet?” Dean asks, and Sam opens his eyes sharply.

“W-What?”

Dean’s voice drops low, his voice just above a whisper. “I asked you if your pants are unbuttoned, Sam.” 

Sam groans as softly as he can and pumps down his dick despite himself, the sound of Dean’s voice asking him that question so fucking sexy. He has no idea what’s happening, why the hell Dean is still talking to him if he knows what he’s doing, but he isn’t able to hold out any longer. He needs release.

“Sam,” Dean says, his voice still low. “Answer me.”

Sam is pumping himself up and down now, still too slow but he knows if he goes faster he won’t be able to control the volume of his voice. “Y-yes,” he says, eyes drooping slightly.

“Yes, what, Sam?” Dean asks.

“Oh god,” Sam whispers, tightening his grip on his cock. “Yes, my pants are off,” he says, and bites his lip to hold in a moan as he slides his thumb over the head.

“Off?” Dean asks, and Sam clenches his teeth, mentally hitting himself. Before he can correct himself and lie, he hears Dean groan. “Even better,” Dean whispers, and Sam almost loses it then and there. 

Dean is dirty talking him, Sam realizes. Holy shit, he thinks. Is it possible that Dean feels the same as he does…?

“You holding your cock, Sammy?” Dean asks in a throaty moan, and Sam gasps audibly. Sam suddenly knows that it is very possible that Dean feels the same way about him. “I know you’re hard, Sam. I know what you’re really doing.” Sam bites down on his lip harder, moving faster over his dick, whimpering as loud as he dares. “I know what I do to you. Do I make you hard, Sammy?”

“Oh god,” Sam groans, unable to hold it in any longer. He can’t believe this is happening, that Dean is telling him the words that he’s only fantasized about.

“Fuck, Sam,” he hears from behind the door, and his cock hardens even further as he pumps himself. Now he’s imagining Dean touching himself, and that’s probably what Dean is really doing. He hears heavy breaths coming from the door. “You touching yourself, Sammy?” Dean asks. “Do you like hearing the sound of my voice as you jerk yourself off?”

Sam moans loudly, moving faster. Dean seems to like this response, as he gives a loud groan in return. Sam can hear the slaps of Dean’s hand and suddenly he can’t take it. He needs to see Dean, needs Dean to finally touch him after all this time he’s been dreaming about it. And now that he knows that Dean wants it too, nothing stops him from stepping out of his boxers and jeans and getting up, crossing the bathroom in a blur. He practically flings open the door.

Dean crashes into the tiny room. He must have been sitting with his back against the door. Dean’s jeans and boxers are off, thrown somewhere in the hallway, his hand wrapped around his big cock, his cheeks red and eyes hooded as he looks up at Sam’s half naked figure standing over him. They are both dressed in just their t-shirts.

“Dean,” Sam breathes, taking in his brother, and he can’t even move because he is so turned on by what is happening and he can hardly even believe it is happening.

“Oh fuck, Sammy,” and Dean rushes to his feet, grabbing both sides of Sam’s head and roughly crashing their lips together. 

Sam gasps as he feels the smooth heat of Dean’s lips, finally feeling the softness he’s been wondering about for months, maybe even years. He eyes flutter shut, and he reaches up and threads his fingers behind Dean’s neck and into his hair, pulling him closer, their chests knocking against each other. 

Sam suddenly feels Dean’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip, and he opens his mouth without hesitating, moaning as his tongue meets Dean’s for the first time. Fire rips through him, pleasure so indescribably strong, and he wraps his arms tight around Dean’s neck, so close to him now that his hard dick his pressing against Dean’s leg. He rubs up against the bare skin and groans into Dean’s mouth at the friction, never having felt something like this before. Dean groans as he feels Sam’s erection against him, moving his hands down across Sam’s torso, finding his hips and pulling him tighter against his body. Sam can feel Dean’s cock against his stomach, and he savors the feeling of the heat against him.

Sam’s head is swimming from the sensations of Dean’s fingers on him and Dean’s lips and tongue on his. He pulls away only out of necessity, breathing in gulps of air, grinding into Dean again and groaning loudly at the feeling. Dean quickly takes off Sam’s shirt and his own, then moves to Sam’s neck and starts licking and kissing his way softly downwards, biting down when he reaches the skin where his shoulder begins. 

“Dean!” Sam moans, Dean’s teeth on his body feeling like presses of white-hot heat. He whispers his brother’s name over and over, his hands tangled in Dean’s short air, breaths coming out in short gasps. He wants Dean’s mouth everywhere, all over him, on his chest, around his cock, everywhere.

Dean’s lips suddenly leave his skin and Sam whimpers loudly at the loss, too turned on to even get embarrassed. Dean only chuckles and takes Sam’s cheeks in his hands, turning his face gently so they can look at each other. Dean’s lips are raw and huge, his hair sticking up every which way because of Sam’s fingers in it moments before. Dean’s cheeks are flushed, and he’s smiling like Sam is the center of his world.

“Dean,” Sam whispers, still breathing heavy. He looks up into Dean’s green eyes and wonders what he ever did to have a brother so perfect, so loving.

“God, Sammy, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Dean groans, pressing his forehead to Sam’s. “So long, Sam. I though I’d never get you. It was killing me.”

Sam moans softly at his brother’s words, elated that Dean really does feel the same way as he does. He puts his hands on Dean’s bare chest and digs his fingertips into the warm skin. “Dean, I want you so bad,” he says softly, and Dean grunts. “Every time you’re near me I get so hard and I can’t stand it,” Sam says, cheeks turning red from admitting this out loud. Dean moves his thumbs across Sam’s cheeks, making a low noise of encouragement at Sam’s words. “Please, Dean. Please. I need you to touch me.” 

“Goddammit, Sammy,” Dean groans, and kisses Sam deeply, his tongue sliding into Sam’s mouth in the most tantalizing way. Sam feels Dean’s hands move down his neck, against the side of his torso, moving lower and lower until they graze Sam’s bare ass and squeezes. Sam moans loudly into Dean’s mouth and clutches at his chest tighter. Dean moves with his hands still on Sam, their lips still connected, until Dean is at the bathtub and sits down. Sam moves to stand between Dean’s legs, enjoying the feel of Dean’s fingers on his ass cheeks, moving his own hands up and down across Dean’s abs, groaning as he feels the heat of Dean’s skin and the flex of his muscles. Dean moans at the contact, squeezing Sam’s butt harder. Sam knows there will be bruises later, but that only turns him on even more. 

“Turn around,” Dean growls into Sam’s mouth, and he immediately obeys his older brother. Dean takes Sam by the hips and brings him to sit on the edge of the bathtub right between his legs. Sam gasps at the cold tile of the bath. His back is pressed right up against Dean’s chest, and he can feel Dean’s erection trapped tightly against his back. The edge is wide enough for Dean to sit comfortably with Sam against him like this, and Sam leans back against his brother’s hot skin, content to finally be so close to him.

Dean’s right hand goes to Sam’s knee and slowly moves up his thigh, Sam hissing in anticipation as his cock throbs. Dean licks the fingers on other hand and strokes it along Sam’s chest, moving across his nipples and twisting slightly as he reaches one.

Sam moans loudly at the sharp pleasure of Dean pinching his nipple, and he arches his back against Dean’s chest, causing his ass to press more firmly against Dean’s cock.

“Sammy,” Dean groans, thrusting slightly against Sam’s back. Sam loves hearing his brother groan, so he moves his ass back further and enjoys the string of curses he gets from Dean in response. 

Dean’s hand reaches the inside of Sammy’s thigh, and Dean moves in and strokes Sam’s balls. He cries out, bucking into Dean’s hand. “Oh god, Dean. So good. Feels so fucking good, Dean.”

“Yeah?” Dean says against Sam’s neck, licking the skin under his earlobe. “You like my hand on your balls, Sammy?”

Sam whimpers as he nods, and moans loud as Dean’s hand moves to the base of his cock and wraps his long fingers around him tightly.

“Dean, I need more, please,” Sam babbles, barely able to get the words out through the haze of the pleasure Dean is causing. He thrusts into Dean’s hand and cries out. 

“Tell me what you want, Sammy,” Dean rumbles into his ear. “Tell your older brother what will make you feel good.” Dean’s hot breath tickles Sam’s skin and he shivers, both from Dean’s words and the feel of his mouth so close to his neck.

“Dean,” Sam whines, rutting into Dean’s hand desperately.

“Common, Sam, don’t get shy on me now,” Dean chuckles.

Sam moans as Dean moves his fingers slightly, obviously just to tease Sam further, and Sam has no choice to give in. “I want you to make me come, Dean. Oh god, please just stroke my cock and make me fucking come so hard.”

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean groans and begins to pump Sam. “You’re so fucking filthy. I love it so much. So much better than anything I imagined.”

“M-me too,” Sam chokes out, throwing his head back against Dean’s shoulder.

“You thought about me, Sammy?” Dean asks as he moves his thumb against the slit on the head of Sam’s cock. “Dirty things?” 

Sam cries out at the raw pleasure of Dean’s fingers on the head of his cock. He nods frantically, unsure if he would be able to get a word out.

“Tell me,” Dean growls. “What do you think about when you jerk yourself off, huh?” Dean slows down his movements, knowing Sam would tell him anything to get him to speed up again.

“Not fair, Jerk” Sam grumbles, trying yet again to thrust faster into Dean’s hand. He feels Dean shake his head against him, his soft chuckle breathy in his ear. 

“I won’t speed up until you tell me, Sammy.”

“Shit,” Sam moans softly, still thrusting. “I thought about—I thought about you touching me all over, a-and sucking my dick until I came.” Sam says. “And… I- I thought about you being inside me, b-bending me over in the back of the impalaaa!” Sam cries out as Dean squeezes tighter around Sam’s cock and moves faster than ever.

“Shit, Sam. I didn’t know you even knew that much about all this. Just knowing you thought about that shit makes me so fucking horny, you have no idea,” he growls into Sam’s ear. He’s hand is moving so fast now the slaps of his skin against Sam’s cock fills the bathroom, echoing around the walls. 

“I know a lot of things, Dean,” Sam whispers as he arches his ass back hard against Dean’s cock. Dean moans loud and bites down onto Sam’s shoulder to muffle the sound. Sam smiles, loving that he can get these reactions out of Dean.

Dean is pumping Sam so hard now that Sam can’t keep his eyes open, the pleasure so white hot and searing that he feels like he might pass out. His head is thrown back on Dean’s shoulder, eyes shut tight, his mouth open as his whole body moves in time with Dean’s thrusts. His orgasm is building fast, and he clutches Dean’s thighs tightly with his hands as he cries out Dean’s name.

“Dean! Dean, I-I’m gonna come, oh god I’m so close.” Sam is panting hard, his words coming out in a breathy moan.

“Come on, Sammy. I want you to come all over my hand, I wanna feel your cock as it shoots all over me.” 

Sam is practically screaming Dean’s name now, Dean’s words working him closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for your older brother, Sammy. Come for me,” he whispers into Sam’s ear, and bites down gently on his earlobe and sucks.

Sam breaks as Dean’s hand moves over the tip of his cock and twists. He screams out his brother’s name, his back arched hard against Dean’s erection as he comes. Dean’s arm is wrapped tightly around Sam’s chest, holding him upright, the other pumping Sam through his climax, whispering sweet nothings in his younger brother’s ear as he releases. 

Eventually, Sam stills, exhausted and breathing heavily, still softly whimpering at the intense orgasm that his own brother made him have. Sam looks over at Dean’s face, so close to his where it’s back on Dean’s shoulder. Dean leans in and kisses him softly on the lips, lingering a few seconds before leaning back and tilting his head so it lays on top of Sam’s. 

“You good, Sammy?” Dean asks softly after a few moments, his arms still wrapped around his brother’s chest. 

Sam, barely strong enough to move, only nods. He has a stupid grin plastered on his face, and is glad Dean isn’t looking at him right now, knowing he would only make fun. Dean chuckles, though, seeming to sense it anyway.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Sam speaks up. “I can’t wait to do that again,” he breathes, sitting up slightly to nuzzle his face into Dean’s neck. 

Dean sighs in content, brushing his cheek back and forth over the top of Sam’s head. “God, neither can I,” he replies, voice husky. 

Suddenly, Sam sits up sharply, almost butting his head against Dean’s. “W-wait! Dean, what about you? You got me off and you didn’t even—“

Dean grabs Sam and pulls him back against him, dragging his nose along Sam’s neck and inhaling deeply. He chuckles softly, and Sam squirms as Dean’s breath tickles his skin.

“I guess you were so busy screaming while you were coming, you didn’t notice I was right there along with you,” Dean laughs, taking Sam’s hand and putting it over his now soft cock as proof. Sam gasps, surprised it can still be so big without it even being hard. “Your perfect fucking ass kept rubbing all over it, I didn’t stand a chance,” Dean says, nipping at Sam’s neck. 

All Sam can get out is a lame “huh” as he relaxes back against Dean again, blushing slightly, proud that he made Dean come and apparently didn’t need to try very hard to do it. He hears his brother chuckle again quietly into his skin, and all Sam can do is smile. The next thing Sam knows, Dean is scooping him up into his arms and walking out of the bathroom. Sam wraps his arms around Dean in surprise, then laughs as Dean falls back onto his bed, Sam still tightly against his chest. Dean adjusts until he is lying on his side, and Sam curls up and leans his head against Dean’s bare chest, arms around his waist. They both sigh, happiness so apparent in both of their breaths.

“I’m so glad I have you, Dean,” Sam whispers against Dean’s chest as his eyes close. “So damn long… I finally have you… make you feel good later, too…” After a few seconds, Sam is breathing deep, soft snores emitting from his slightly open mouth.

Dean chuckles, pushing some hair away from Sam’s face. “Me too, Sammy. Me too.” Eventually, Dean drifts off, clutching is younger brother in his arms.


	2. Dean's Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has finally gotten exactly what he wanted: Sam. So what happens when Dad goes on a last minute job and leaves them alone for a couple days? What you'd expect, of course. Chapter filled with firsts. Lots of heavy smut... enjoy :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again, bringing you a chapter two that I've been slaving away on to make sure everyone's bits were exactly where they needed to be. *evil laughter*
> 
> Sneak peak? Let's just say we have a little bit of everything: a whole lot orgasms, some adorable fluff (unnecessary but cute as hell, don't deny it), and a promise of way more to come in the future. (I swear that pun was not intended)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters but enjoy making them do whatever I want! Credit to the creators of SPN for these boys, credit to me for my dirty-ass ideas.
> 
> Enjoy! xx

If someone had told Dean a week ago that in just a handful of days he was going to be jacking off his 14 year old brother in the bathroom, thrusting against his taught ass until he came, he would have asked what they were smoking and begged for some of it immediately. Then he would have went to jerk himself off, because damn if he didn’t dream about his little brother all the time already. But he wouldn’t have believed them. Dean had never truly believed Sam would ever feel like that towards him, no matter how much Dean wanted him to.

For once in his life, Dean was so glad he was wrong.

Dean had been hot for his brother for years now, seeming to always develop a raging hard on when Sam walked into the room, no matter what state of dress or mood Sam was in. Sam could have been wrapped in a parka with his face bright red from the cold, a scowl on his face, and Dean’s dick would have hardened the moment he saw him. (This had actually happened, in fact, two years ago when they had followed a werewolf to Colorado in the dead of winter. Sam had been 12 and extremely pissed off when the Impala blew a tire and they had to wait in the freezing snow while their dad attempted to change it. Dean, being the insensitive dick that he was, had just sat there next to Sam like an idiot, wincing at the pressure of his hard cock in his jeans. He had only being able to imagine ripping off Sam’s clothes and heating him up with his body heat, skin against skin.) 

Dean knew how fucked up he was the moment he started having such thoughts about his younger brother, but he never for the life of him acted on his fantasies, no matter how bad he wanted it. But that didn’t mean Dean didn’t think about it all the time, touching himself almost every night, thinking about the way Sam’s asshole would feel around his cock, or the way Sam’s face would look as he came while Dean sucked him off, or what Sam would sound like as he begged Dean for more. 

But there was nothing Dean could do about it.

Instead, when he wanted the real thing, he got it the healthy (and legal) way, hooking up with a random chick whenever he wanted, because God knows there was never a shortage of girls who wanted Dean. And for awhile, that seemed to work, at least in terms of ensuring Dean never got blue balls. He would bang a girl who got his dick hard, whenever the situation arose, but that was always the end of it. Dean never felt more than a physical attraction for those girls, and more often than not, he came with the image of Sammy in his brain. With Sam, it was more than just the physical, and although Sam turned him on more than anybody ever could, he also felt attached to Sam, in more than just the brotherly way. 

Dean knew he had it bad, but it only got worse when Sam started acting fucking strange has hell.

It might’ve been shortly after Sam turned 13, maybe a little before. Suddenly, Dean started noticing Sam staring at him more often, his eyes lingering on Dean’s body whenever he was changing an outfit or cleaning his knives. At first, Dean pushed it aside, trying to convince himself he was imagining the things he wanted Sam to be feeling. 

But as time dragged on, it became obvious. Whenever Dean came out of the bathroom in just a towel after a shower, Sam would turn bright red and immediately pretend to get tired, stuffing his face into the pillow and start snoring dramatically. Or when Dean would be cleaning out his guns, Sam’s eyes would track the movement of Dean’s fingers as they moved over the metal, stammering something random when Dean noticed and looked up. Countless situations proved to Dean that Sam was no longer a little kid; he was developing the same reactions to Dean that Dean had to him. And God, if that didn’t make Dean’s life all the more unbearable.

He didn’t want to make a move on Sam unless he was absolutely, 100 percent sure Sam was ready and wanting it too. So he didn’t, for a very long time, simply taking joy in the fact that Sam was probably feeling just as frustrated as he was. 

His resolve worked, for a time. But that all changed when he felt, physically felt Sam’s dick harden as he moved his legs to lie on Sam’s lap. And when Sam had rushed to the bathroom like there was a hellhound on his heels, Dean just had to see what Sam was going to do. 

So he followed him to the bathroom, naturally. And when he heard Sam’s soft voice cursing, crying out in pleasure, Dean lost it.

Best decision Dean had ever made.

After the mind-blowing (and long awaited) first encounter between him and Sam, Dean had fallen asleep in a pure state of content, his little brother naked and curled up against his chest. 

Of course that didn’t last long. Dean was a Winchester, after all.

He had woken up sharply when he heard the door bang open, stiffening in terror as his father stumbled into the motel room. It was probably in the very early hours of morning. The room was pitch black, and Dean prayed to whatever God there might be that he was too drunk to glance over at the bed. He praying that John wouldn’t look over and see his two sons, butt-naked and practically tangled together on the sheets. Sam was still asleep in his arms, snoring softly, oblivious to John’s entrance.

How could he be so stupid? Dean closed his eyes and cursed himself up and down for being so thoughtless, so careless, and now his dad was going to find them and kill him, and he would have only had Sam for a few hours. Fear coursed through his veins at the thought of his dad hurting Sam over this, and he promised himself then and there he would do anything to protect Sam, that whatever they had now would never threaten his safety.

Dean held his breath, all these thoughts whizzing through his brain in a matter of seconds. But nothing happened, and when Dean cracked open an eye, he saw John disappear over the back of the couch and start snoring instantly. 

Dean let out a long puff of air, allowing himself to relax slightly. That had been too close. 

Before even giving himself a chance to think about anything else, he hopped silently out of bed and crouched by the side of Sam’s dresser, pulling out the first shirt and shorts his hands touched. Without making a noise, he dressed his little brother, taking great care to slip on the clothes over Sam’s soft skin without waking him up. As he pulled up the shorts over Sam’s butt, he felt his cock stiffen, but firmly shook his head. This was really not the time.

Carefully, he lifted Sam’s small form into his arms and carried him to his bed just a few feet away, laying him down gently and pulling the covers up and over his narrow shoulders. Sam made a soft noise against the pillow as Dean looked down at him, making him smile. God, Sam was beautiful. He couldn’t believe that he was his.

__

That’s where he is now, Dean standing over Sam’s sleeping form, his pulse still racing at the near discovery of him and Sam. He allows himself to lean down and press a soft kiss to Sam’s lips, because he can, and then he turns to go back to bed.

“Dean,” he hears from behind him, so soft he thinks he imagines it.

But when he turns, sure enough, Sam’s eyes are cracked open, looking at Dean with curiosity, moving through his drowsiness to sit up. 

“What happened?” Sam whispers, looking down at his clothes and back at Dean, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Dad,” Dean whispers back, crouching down beside Sam so they are face to face. Sam’s eyes widen, and he whips his head around frantically, looking for the one person Dean knows neither of them want to see right now. “Shhh,” Dean soothes, raising a hand to brush his fingertips lightly across Sam’s cheek. “It’s okay, he didn’t see anything, Sammy.” He rubs light circles against Sam’s cheek until Sam looks at him again. Dean offers him a small smile.

Sam nods slowly, his expression relaxing slightly. “Okay,” Sam whispers, and lies back down against his pillow. “Okay,” he says again.

“We’re good, Sammy,” Dean says softly as Sam closes his eyes again, slipping his hand off Sam’s face. Sam nods again, nuzzling into the pillow. But then he opens his eyes suddenly, as if remembering something. He sits up once more and grins at Dean, a wide grin that makes his dimples pop out. Dean can’t help but grin back, the sight of Sam’s dimples making him cock twitch. “What?” he asks softly.

Sam reaches out and takes Dean’s face in both of his hands, leaning in. Dean’s eyes close, and then he feels Sam’s lips press firmly against his, the softest of sighs made against his mouth. Dean groans quietly, taking Sam’s neck in his hand and squeezing. Sam deepens the kiss, brushing his tongue against Dean’s bottom lip and dipping into his mouth once Dean grants him entrance. Sam’s tongue is slightly sloppy and inexperienced against his, but Dean loves it too much to care. He knows Sam will get better, and he feels his body flood with heat as he imagines teaching Sam all he knows. Sam moans into his mouth, but Dean pulls back before this can get too out of control, his dick twitching at the agonizing pleasure of just that kiss. 

Dean opens his eyes and looks at Sam, who is smiling again. “I just realized that I can do that whenever I want now,” Sam whispers, his eyes glinting with joy.

Dean nods, unable to give a further reply.

Sam tilts his head and glances down. His eyes widen at the sight of Dean’s huge erection, and he looks sharply up at Dean. “Dean,” Sam breathes, voice low.

Dean shakes his head, even though it practically physically pains him. “Sleep for a few more hours, Sammy,” he whispers, his voice cracking. He curses himself silently for being such a softy. Something his dick is certainly not at the moment.

“But, Dean—“ Sam whispers urgently, leaning forward.

“Sammy,” Dean interrupts, and presses his forehead against Sam’s. Sam’s tongue darts out and licks the tip of Dean’s nose, and Dean makes a noise between a chuckle and a moan. Shit, that was cute. “Sam, you have no fucking idea how much it’s taking me to say no to you right now,” Dean whispers, his voice rough.

“Then don’t,” Sam whines, trying to move his arm over the edge of the bed to grab Dean’s hard member. Dean catches his wrist in his hand gently to stop him.

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean hisses, kissing Sam roughly before pulling back again. “I want to, I really want to,” he admits. “But when dad walked in, I just about shit a brick. I was so scared that he would see us, so scared thinking about what he would do if he saw us. I’m not going to risk that. I’m not going to risk it with dad right over there just so I can get off.” Dean shakes his head a little before continuing. “I don’t know what dad would do, Sammy, if he found out. If he hurt you…” he takes a deep breath. “Not gonna risk it, Sammy. No way.” 

Sam is silent for a few moments before he replies. “Okay, Dean,” he whispers, his voice small. He rarely hears Dean admit fear. It honestly freaks him out a bit that Dean is so scared of his father finding out, so he can only nod. “It’s okay, Dean,” he says. “He’s not gonna find out. We’ll be careful next time.”

Dean can’t stop the rush of heat throughout his body as those words hit his hears. Next time.

“Yeah, Sammy,” he whispers, pecking Sam’s lips once more before he rises and pads softly to his bed.

“And anyway,” Dean hears from behind him as he walks towards his mattress. “I can just suck your cock tomorrow when dad goes out again.”

Dean looks at Sam with wide eyes, his cock throbbing from Sam’s words. Sam is lying down again, on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Sam muses to himself softly. “I’ve been imagining the taste of your dick for so long.” He turns towards Dean and looks him right in the eye. “I bet it’s gonna be so good,” he whispers.

And with that, he turns over so that his back is to Dean, and starts snoring dramatically.

Bastard.

“Fuck,” Dean whispers succinctly, lying down and squeezing his eyes shut. Then Dean hears Sam chuckle, and he grins despite himself.  
__

“And make sure to keep the door locked at all times, Dean. Don’t forget. Check the salt lines every few hours. But most importantly, look out for Sammy.” John glances at the clock over the window and back at Dean. “Dean, are you listening to me?”

No, Dean is not listening, but that’s because he’s heard this speech a thousand times before, maybe even a million, and he doesn’t care enough at the moment to even pretend that he’s focusing. Dean has his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling in boredom. No, Dean isn’t listening. Dean is thinking about what he and Sam are going to do the moment his dad leaves the motel room. And God, were his thoughts getting detailed.

“Dean,” his dad presses, and Dean looks up and mutters a ‘yes sir’ to the question he didn’t hear his dad ask. John sighs but surprisingly doesn’t argue. 

“I’ll only be gone until tomorrow night,” John says. “This was a last minute thing, and I couldn’t say no to Bobby.” He turns away from Dean and gathers the bags on the other side of the coffee table. “When I get back, we’ll head out. Pretty sure there’s something for us a few states over.” Dean nods absently. He briefly wonders how his dad is even up and around right now, having been at the bar yesterday for hours before crashing in at two in the morning and ruining Dean’s night. Then Dean remembers he doesn’t care how his father is dealing with his hangover, as long as he gets the fuck out of the motel room as soon as possible.

“Sam?” John calls, and after a few seconds Sam pokes his head out of the small kitchen to Dean’s right, a piece of toast sticking out of his mouth. “Be good while I’m gone. If Dean’s bothering you, make sure to kick his ass for me,” John says. 

Sam glances at Dean and gives him a wicked smirk around his toast, making Dean grow impossibly hard in a second. 

“Yeah, dad,” Sam says, his voice muffled by the bread, looking Dean right in the eye. “Right in the ass.”

Dean doesn’t know how he keeps the groan escaping, but by some miracle he does. Dean glances at their dad to make sure his back is still turned, and after he sees it’s safe, he rubs his hand over his jeans while looking right at Sam. Sam’s eyes widen, the piece of toast falling from his mouth and right onto the floor. Dean smiles in success.

“Okay, boys,” John says, and both brothers quickly look up at their dad, feigning looks of innocence. “Just a little over day. See you guys tomorrow, if you’re still awake.” And with that John is opening the door, walking right through it, and closing it behind him. Dean gets up and locks the bolt and slides the chain through the groove before plopping back onto couch. After a few seconds, Dean hears John’s truck start and drive away. 

Sam is gone again, probably back in the kitchen, making another piece of toast. Dean chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” Dean hears right by his ear, and just about jumps out of his skin. Sam is leaning over the back of the couch, his face right next to Dean’s, his breath tickling Dean’s neck.

“Jesus Christ, Sam! What the hell?” Dean gasps, clutching a hand to his chest.

“Scaredy cat,” Sam laughs, swinging himself up and over the back of the couch so he’s sitting right next to Dean, their thighs pressed together. Sam looks at Dean and grins, his eyes full of mischief. “So,” Sam says. “Dad’s gone.”

“Yeah,” Dean replies, looking at Sam’s delicate face, voice suddenly rough. His thigh is hot where it’s touching Sam’s. 

“What do you wanna do today?” Sam asks innocently, looking up at Dean with wide eyes.

“Sam,” Dean says, voice low. “You’re not serious.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks, playing dumb, leaning his face into Dean’s neck so his nose brushes the warm skin there. 

Dean inhales sharply, eyes fluttering shut, goose bumps rising where Sam’s breath hits his skin. “You know damn well what we’re doing today, Sammy.” He moves a hand to brush over Sam’s crotch, feeling Sam’s cock harden in response. Sam gasps against Dean’s neck, and Dean grins. 

“I-I have no idea what you’re t-talking about,” Sam stutters, nuzzling his face further into Dean’s neck, bucking up into his hand.

“You don’t?” Dean asks, and rubs his hand more firmly against Sam, and Sam whimpers into Dean’s neck, his forehead pressing roughly into Dean’s skin.

“W-what?” Sam mumbles, completely losing his train of thought. Then Dean feels Sam’s tongue dart out and lick the skin under his jaw and he groans.

“Sammy,” Dean growls, leaning into Sam’s touch.

Sam bites down onto Dean’s neck and starts sucking, his tongue flickering over Dean’s skin. Dean moans loudly, unable to hold out any longer. He moves fast, twisting around to face Sam fully, grabbing his little brother’s waist and pushing him back, pressing him down against the couch. Sam gives a gasp of surprise has his hands are captured and pressed down roughly above his head.

“Fuck, Sam, do you even get what you do to me?” Dean asks, and kisses him. He slides his tongue into Sam’s mouth, Sam letting him in without hesitation. Dean explores Sam’s mouth, savoring the taste of his younger brother, the faint trace of orange juice and mint on his breath. Sam moans into Dean’s mouth and bucks his hips, and Dean groans softly at the feel of his little brother’s cock against his stomach. Dean presses his own hard cock against Sam’s leg in response.

Sam struggles against Dean’s hand, trying to free his wrists from his tight grip. Dean only holds him tighter and breaks away from Sam’s lips. He moves his mouth to Sam’s neck and licks right below his earlobe, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin before biting down.

“Dean!” Sam cries, bucking his hips up again, desperate for friction. “Oh god, Dean. Oh god.”

Dean licks and sucks further down Sam’s neck, pausing as he reaches the fabric of his shirt. He looks back up Sam, whose eyes are closed in pleasure, teeth biting his lip. Dean growls at the sight of that and grinds into Sam’s cock.

Sam throws his head back and moans loudly at the feel of Dean’s dick. “Dean,” Sam gasps. “Please.”

“Shit, Sammy,” Dean curses, looking at Sam biting his lip, his hair messy and splayed out, his cheeks flushed. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so stunning. He sits up to take Sam’s shirt off, and Sam fumbles with Dean’s shirt, pulling it over his head as quickly as possible. Dean leans back down to press his bare chest against Sam’s. “God, Sam. You’re so beautiful,” Dean says, kissing down Sam’s chest, licking and biting as he goes. 

All Sam can do is moan in response and thread his fingers through Dean’s hair, arching his back into every one of Dean’s rough kisses. 

“These two days are going to be fucking amazing,” Dean says against Sam’s collarbone, rocking into Sam’s erection, making him whimper. “I’m going to make you feel so damn good. I’m going to finally taste your cock, Sam, take it into my mouth again and again until you come.” Dean licks down his chest further. Sam thrusts into Dean’s stomach hard, nodding frantically.

“Yes Dean, oh god, yes, I want you to blow me, Dean. I want you to make me come,” Sam cries.

“Yeah, Sammy? You want your cock inside my mouth?” Dean is breathing heavy, the thought of Sam wanting this just as bad making him so fucking turned on.

Sam moans Dean’s name, nodding his head desperately at Dean’s words. “I’ve wanted it for so long, Dee.”

Dean’s dick is so hard now it almost hurts as it presses against his jeans. He reaches Sam’s nipples and takes one of them in his mouth, licking around the hard nub and biting down gently.

“Fuck, Dean!” Sam screams, his back arched right off the couch, pushing his chest further into Dean’s mouth. “Oh, fuck!”

Dean kisses the nipple before moving to the other, licking and biting just as he did the other. 

“Dean!” Sam cries. “I-I think I might—“

Before he can finish, Sam trembles violently beneath Dean, hips bucking wildly into Dean’s stomach, rubbing his cock between their bodies. Then he stills, and lies back roughly against the couch. Sam is breathing in loud gasps, chest heaving.

Dean sits back on his heels and looks down at Sam, whose head is turned to the side, eyes shut tight, breathing heavily in short little pants. “Did… did you just come?” Dean asks, gaping. 

Sam opens his eyes and turns to face Dean. When he sees Dean’s face, his cheeks turn crimson. He nods slowly, trying to look away from Dean, but Dean takes his chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts his head back towards him.

“I wasn’t even touching you,” Dean says, his voice full of awe. He’s shocked at how sensitive Sam is, and so fucking turned on that Sam can orgasm just from his mouth on his nipples.

Sam’s cheeks turn brighter. “Y-you were too!” he insists, clearly embarrassed. “Maybe you weren’t touching my dick with your hands, but you were licking me, and biting me, and your stomach was rubbing on my cock and you were saying you wanted to suck me off and—“

Dean leans down and kisses Sam roughly, cutting him off. He pulls away and leans his forehead against Sam’s. “Shit, Sam. You are so fucking sexy, did you know that? When you talk like that, it makes me crazy.” He leans down again, licking a trail down Sam’s stomach until he reaches the waist of Sam’s jeans. Sam gasps, goose bumps rising under Dean’s tongue. 

Dean unbuttons Sam’s pants in a second, and Sam raises his hips off the couch, allowing Dean to pull them off easily. “I can’t wait to taste you, Sammy,” Dean says, and Sam moans. “Can’t wait.” He throws the jeans somewhere across the room and kisses Sam over his briefs, feeling that Sam’s cock is already stiff again. Dean grins.

“Already hard again for me, Sammy?” Dean asks, licking over the fabric again, making Sam squirm.

“Uh huh,” Sam pants, his voice coming out a whine. “Just the sound of your voice makes me hard, Dean,” he admits, looking down into Dean’s eyes. “Please just blow me already. I can’t take it.” 

Dean growls and pulls off Sam’s briefs, dropping them over the side of the couch. Sam’s dick really is rock hard again, only moments after he came, and Dean leans down and begins licking off the drops of come that are left on the tip of his cock. Sam whimpers, raising his hips slightly, demanding more. Dean swirls his tongue around the head, groaning at the taste of Sam’s jizz on his tongue. It’s bitter, but it’s Sam’s.

“Oh god, Dean. I-I’ve never felt anything like this before,” Sam whines, bucking slightly into Dean’s mouth. Dean smiles, so glad he’s the one to give Sammy his first blowjob. 

“So good, Sammy,” Dean mumbles as his moves his head lower and licks a line up the shaft of Sam’s cock. Sam cries out, back arching, moving his hand into Dean’s hair and pushing down hard. His tongue slides over the head again, and he dips into the slit and applies a bit of pressure. Sam shouts, trying to pull away and push in deeper all at the same time. Dean grabs Sam’s hips and pushes him down roughly, holding him steady as he kisses the head and finally takes Sam fully into his mouth. 

He moves slowly at first, tasting the heat of Sam’s silky cock as he moves up and down. He feels Sam throb in his mouth, Sam’s fingers twisting tighter into his hair, and he moans, getting so turned on at how much Sam is enjoying this. Sam tries to thrust up and increase the speed, but Dean keeps his hips firmly against the couch.

“Deeaann,” Sam whines, and Dean looks up through his lashes to see Sam looking down at him, eyes hooded. “Faster,” he moans, “please, big brother, make me feel good.”

Dean’s eyes widen, Sam’s words going straight to his cock in an agonizing stab of pleasure. He knows it’s so fucked up, but Sam calling him big brother really turns him on, and almost makes him climax right then and there. 

Dean groans around Sam and begins to move faster, pressing his tongue firmly against the vein on the underside of his cock while he drags upwards, grazing his teeth softly over the tip before sliding back down. Sam screams Dean’s name, his hips trying to move desperately. He babbles almost incoherently, moaning about how good his big brother is making him feel, how good Dean’s lips feel around his cock. 

Dean increases his speed further, bobbing up and down, hollowing out his cheeks and loosening his grip on Sam’s hips. Sam, crying out in triumph at his freedom, immediately begins thrusting into his mouth. When Dean looks up, he sees Sam’s eyes flutter shut, his head falling back against the couch. Dean’s cock twitches against his jeans again, enjoying every response he gets from Sam. Then, Dean feels Sam quiver inside his mouth, Sam’s hard dick beginning to tighten. Dean goes faster, knowing Sam is very close.

“D-Deaaan,” Sam moans, one of his hands behind his head, clutching at the arm cushion, and the other woven tightly into Dean’s hair. “I’m g-gonna c-come, Dean, oh my god, so fucking good Dean.”

Dean keeps his pace, and when he feels Sam’s thrusts begin to grow more erratic, he slides up and dips into the slit on the head of dick and sucks hard.

“D-Dean! Oh god, I’m—“

Sam thrusts once more and releases into Dean’s mouth, and Dean groans as he feels Sam’s hot come shoot into his mouth, the taste bitter but satisfying. He continues moving while swallowing every drop, holding on to Sam’s hips through his climax. Sam cries out loudly, digging his fingernails into Dean’s scalp.

“Oh god, Dean. Oh god,” Sam says, quieter after a moment, finally stilling, and Dean licks once more up Sam’s soft cock, Sam trembling, sensitive from his orgasm, before releasing him. Dean sits back on his heels and looks down at Sam, whose cheeks are beautifully blushed, his hair lying around him in a deliciously messy way. His eyes are wide, a dark hazel as they look up at his older brother. Dean drinks him in.

He leans down and presses his lips to Sam’s, sliding his tongue softly into his brother’s mouth. Sam moans at the taste of himself on Dean’s tongue and wraps his legs around Dean’s waist. Dean sits up, clutching Sam, and sits back against the arm of the couch, Sam straddling him. 

Sam breaks the kiss and looks at Dean, smiling. “That felt so fucking amazing, Dee,” he whispers, forehead against Dean’s.

Dean’s heart flutters in his chest, and he digs his fingers tighter into Sam’s hips, pulling him closer. Sam’s warm crotch rubs right up against Dean, and Dean gasps at the friction on his impossibly hard dick.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean groans as Sam catches Dean’s response and starts rocking against Dean.

“You’re so hard, Dean,” Sam says, moving his hips over Dean in a way that makes Dean’s head spin. “I wanna make you come, too, big brother, make you feel good, like you did to me.” He grinds down especially hard then, and Dean groans, kissing Sam roughly, biting down on his lower lip.

“Jesus, Sam. I love when you call me that. ” He moan as Sam begins to move faster over Dean’s cock, making him hiss in pleasure.

“Big brother?” Sam asks, leaning down to bite Dean’s earlobe.

Dean nods. “It makes me so fucking horny, Sam,” Dean growls, leaning into Sam’s touch as Sam licks the skin under Dean’s ear. “It’s so fucked up but it’s so damn hot.”

Dean feels Sam smile against his skin. “You know when you call me Sammy?” Sam asks, moving to look Dean in the eye. Dean nods, gulping heavily. “That makes me so fucking horny,” Sam whispers, and Dean groans. He had had no idea, but now he plans on calling Sam that more often.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean says, voice low.

Sam then casually slips off Dean’s lap and moves back to straddle his legs instead, his ass sitting on Dean’s shins, his knees folded back on either side of them. He unbuttons Dean’s pants and tries to tug them down.

Dean’s eyes widen. “Sam, you don’t have to—“

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam says sharply, and Dean shuts up. “I want to suck your cock so bad. I told you last night. Please let me.”

All Dean can do his nod, his mouth suddenly very dry. Dean realizes very quickly that out of the many kinks he’s developed that involves his littler brother (let’s face it, all of them involve his little brother), one of them is Sam taking complete control. And God is it so damn hot.

“But…” Sam trails off, suddenly blushing hard and looking away from Dean.

Dean leans forward and captures Sam’s chin in his hand, tilting upwards so Sam looks at him. “What is it, Sammy?” Dean asks.

“I… I don’t really- I’ve never…” Sam blushes deeper.

Dean is silent a moment before he chuckles, pecking Sam on the lips. Of course his little brother doesn’t know how to give a blowjob. For all the dirty things Sam has been saying to him, he’s still 14. Dean knows he’ll be teaching Sam many things, but that only excites him. “I’ll teach you, Sammy,” Dean tells him, no judgment in his voice. “But I bet whatever you do will feel so damn good. I’m not worried one bit.”

Sam nods, pulling away from Dean’s hand with a small smile. He tugs on Dean’s jeans again and this time, Dean raises his hips slightly so they can be pulled down to his knees. Sam gasps at the harsh outline of Dean’s huge erection against his briefs. Sam reaches out with one hand and strokes it. Dean hisses, but doesn’t look away from Sam’s calculating face. Sam looks up and blushes when he sees Dean staring. 

“Is… is that ok?” Sam asks him softly, moving slowly, and Dean nods.

“God, yes. It’s perfect, Sammy. Just touch me like you touch yourself,” Dean says, and Sam nods, looking down at his movements again. 

Sam presses a little harder as he speeds up, and Dean groans, letting his head fall back a little. He has never felt so intensely at just a hand job, and over his briefs, no less. It’s shocking. Just the slightest touch from Sam makes his head swim, and even though Sam’s hand isn’t even touching his bare skin yet, he feels close to coming. 

Dean feels Sam’s hand leave his cock to pull at the waistband of his briefs, but then it pauses. Dean raises his head and looks at his little brother, catching Sam’s hazel eyes on his face. Sam’s mouth is open as he looks at Dean, as if gaping.

“W-what?” Dean asks, voice thick with pleasure.

Sam shakes his head softly. “It’s just… I like your face when I’m touching you,” Sam says, and blushes. Dean chuckles and raises a hand to rub his thumb over Sam’s red cheek.

“I like your face when I’m touching you, too,” Dean replies, leaning forward to peck Sam on the lips. “But I just like your face, period.”

Sam mumbles something that sounds like a ‘whatever, shut up,’ but he’s grinning, and he pushes Dean back against the arm of the couch. He slips his fingers into the waistband of Dean’s briefs and pulls them down, Dean raising his hips to help, and his erection springs out, slapping up softly to sit lightly against his stomach.

Sam looks at it for a moment and then says, “it’s so big,” in a soft voice. Dean bites down on his grin and tries to push it away. He’ll savor the compliment later.

“You won’t have to put it all in your mouth,” he says to Sam, and Sam looks up with a quizzical look. “Like, you can take as much as you want, and use your hand to do the rest,” he explains. 

Sam nods slowly. “And how do I… you know…” Sam trails off.

“Do what feels natural,” Dean instructs. “If it’s uncomfortable, stop. And,” Dean adds, “just think about what I did to you. How I licked and sucked… try to do the same.”

Sam nods again, slightly redder than before. Dean thinks he’ll back out, but then he curves his back, bending down, and presses a simple kiss to the head of Dean’s cock. It was a dry kiss, nothing special at all, but Dean hisses sharply as he feels Sam’s lips on him, the sight of it equally as pleasurable. Sam then leans further down and presses his tongue to the base of his cock, licking upwards at a burning slow pace. He looks up at Dean through his lashes as he does this, and Dean groans.

“Holy shit, Sam, so fucking good,” he moans.

Sam seems to take this as encouragement, and as he reaches the top of Dean’s cock, wraps his mouth around the head and swirls his tongue around the tip. Dean shouts, curling his fingers into the cushions of the couch. Fire erupts in his gut, spreading down his legs, his toes, radiating warmth throughout his whole body. He remembers doing this exact thing to Sam just minutes before, and he knows Sam is taking his advice seriously.

“S-Sammy,” Dean groans as Sam moves back down to lick another wet line up his shaft, sucking clumsily in places along the way. When he gets back to the tip, Sam’s eyes widen at the pre-come dripping out of the slit. Without hesitating, he laps it right up, sucking the head and sliding his mouth a little further down than before.

“Dean,” Sam gasps, pulling up with a wet smack. He looks into Dean’s hooded eyes. “You taste so good,” Sam whispers, his eyes wide, then puts his lips back around Dean’s cock and takes even more of Dean into his mouth. 

“Sam!” Dean groans, low and guttural, and barely restrains himself from thrusting upwards. He doesn’t want Sam taking more than he can, so he fists his fingers tighter into the cushions instead. “Y-your mouth feels so fucking good, Sammy. So damn good.” Sam moans at Dean’s words, and Dean trembles at the vibrations.

Sam wraps his hand around the base of Dean’s cock as he takes as much as he can, just as Dean had told him too, and pumps him in time with his mouth moving over him. Spit slides out the sides of Sam’s mouth, dripping down his chin and onto Dean’s balls. Dean groans as he sees it, his body growing hotter at the site of Sam’s full, pink lips wrapped around his cock. 

Sam’s mouth is nowhere near as experienced as some of the women who sucked Dean off before, but it had never felt as good as it does now. The overly wet feel of Sam’s mouth, licking and sucking him, his own little brother, is a million times better than anything Dean had ever felt before. Dean doubts he’ll ever be able to come from a blowjob ever again, if Sam’s not the one giving it.

Dean feels his cock begin to tighten, the pull in his gut white-hot and growing stronger.

“Sammy, you have to stop. I’m gonna come,” Dean pants, trying to push Sam’s head up. He doesn’t want to come in Sam’s mouth, scared it will be too much for his little brother. But Sam slaps his hand away and whines, fucking whines. He looks up at Dean, his hazel eyes wide and round, and Dean growls. Sam is giving him the goddamn puppy dog look, from around his cock, and Dean thrusts into Sam’s mouth despite himself, unable to control himself. Sam moans and gags slightly, but doesn’t stop. He only sucks on Dean’s cock harder. 

Dean raises the hand that was batted away and puts it in Sam’s hair, trying to tug him up. But then Sam closes his eyes and groans around Dean’s cock. Dean freezes, thinking he might have thrust again without meaning to, but then he sees Sam’s eyes open and they are just full of lust. He tugs on Sam’s hair again, a bit harder, and again Sam groans, this time bucking against Dean’s shins. Sam’s cock is rock hard again.

Holy shit, Dean thinks. Sammy’s got a hair-pulling fetish. 

This just throws Dean over the edge, and he’s coming before he can convince Sam to let go. “God fucking dammit, Sammy!” he shouts as he releases into Sam’s mouth, the fire within him exploding, flashing behind his closed eyelids. He struggles to open them, and when he does, he sees Sam licking up his come, whatever he can’t swallow dribbling down his chin. “Oh my god, Sam,” Dean groans. “So fucking hot, seeing my come on you,” Dean thrusts lazily one more time into Sam’s mouth before stilling, breathing in short puffs, unable to tear his eyes away from Sam’s face. Slowly, he releases his grip on Sam’s hair, letting it fall heavily to his side.

Sam releases Dean’s dick from his mouth and sits up. He’s trying to lick what he can off his face in the most childlike of ways, as if it’s ice cream on his chin and not his older brother’s jizz. Sam is grinning, lapping it up like it’s the best thing he’s ever had. 

“You taste so good, big brother,” Sam moans, taking a finger to wipe up what’s left on his chin and licking it off. “So fucking good.”

Sam’s lips are puffy and red, his voice slightly rough from having Dean in his mouth. And he looks just so fucking filthy, completely naked, sitting on Dean’s legs, licking up come and moaning. 

Dean suddenly takes Sam by his waist and pulls him forward until he’s on his lap and kisses him roughly, his tongue in Sam’s mouth before Sam can even kiss back. He tastes himself on Sam’s tongue, bitter and completely ordinary, and definitely not something Dean considers himself to savor. He can’t imagine what it tastes like to Sam, but it only makes his body fill with heat when he thinks that his little brother loves it so much. 

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, Sammy,” Dean growls, pulling back from the kiss to nip at Sam’s ear. Sam moans, wrapping his arms around Dean and nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck. Sam is grinding into Dean’s crotch, which is still warm and wet from Sam’s mouth. “God, Sam. You’re hard again? Hard from sucking my cock?”

Sam nods into Dean’s neck, whimpering, his cock so hard on Dean’s. Dean only came moments before, but he feels his still sensitive dick starting to grow hard again at the feeling of Sam moving against him. 

“Or was it from my fingers in your hair, Sammy?” Dean whispers roughly into Sam’s ear. “You like when I pull your hair?”

Sam makes a sound like a choked sob as he nods frantically into Dean’s neck, moving harder and faster against Dean to the point where soft slaps begin to emit in the silence of the room. Dean growls, shoving his fingers into Sam’s hair and giving an experimental tug. Sam yelps, but it quickly turns into a moan, and Dean feels the wetness of pre-come drip out of Sam’s cock and onto his stomach. 

Dean tugs again, harder, and Sam gives the most agonizingly hot sound, something between a whine and a scream. The sound goes straight to Dean’s cock, and he’s hard again, thrusting up into Sam’s every movement. 

“Oh, fuck, Sammy. Oh fuck,” he growls, tightening his fingers in Sam’s hair. “So hot. Goddammit, Sam. So hot.” Dean is babbling, but he doesn’t care, feelings of pleasure so intense he fears he’ll pass out before he and Sam can come again. Sam is whining nonstop into his neck, his arms tight around Dean, practically crying from pleasure. It’s making Dean so fucking hard and turned on it’s dizzying.

Dean tightens his free arm around Sam’s waist and sits up slightly, so he and Sam are pressed even more tightly together, and begins moving them so fast and hard it kind of hurts. 

But in the best way. 

Sam screams out Dean’s name, clutching at him frantically, shouting that he’s so damn close. Dean growls that he’s with him, always with him, and after a few more white-hot thrusts against each other, they come as one, shaking against each other, hands tight enough against each other’s skin that they are bound to leave bruises. Dean hopes he does, wanting to mark Sam as his. He hopes Sam leaves marks on him, too. He’s Sam’s, so utterly Sam’s it makes him ache.

They are silent for ages, trembling against each other as they calm from such an intense orgasm. Eventually, Dean relaxes, leaning back against the couch, arms around Sam’s waist. Sam scoots down a little to lay his head on Dean’s chest, arms still around Dean’s neck. They lie like that for a while, in a comfortable silence. Soft rays of light peak through the curtains. Trees rustle quietly outside in the wind. Dean strokes Sam’s back with the pads of his fingers, and Sam sighs contently, shivering at his touch.

Soon, one of them breaks the silence. “Dean?”

“Sammy,” Dean breathes, feeling so elated, so happy.

A pause. “I love you, Dean.”

Dean expands, then. He expands so much, it’s like he’s just filled with Sam. Thoughts of Sam in his head, the feel of Sam on his skin, the taste of Sam in his mouth. Sam, everywhere, all around him, building him up. He’s always knows it was Sam that made him live, Sam that gave him the power to get up in the morning. But in that moment, Dean just feels it all, and it makes him expand with his love for Sam, his little brother, his life, his heart.

“God, Sam,” Dean says, not caring in the slightest if Sam hears the crack in his voice. He lifts Sam’s head up so he can see those beautiful hazel eyes. “I love you, Sam. So goddamn much. Never doubt it,” Dean says, pressing his lips to Sam’s forehead. “Never.”

Sam trembles, leaning into Dean’s lips. “Can it be like this forever, Dean?” he asks, voice small. “I don’t know what I’d do if—”

“Forever,” Dean says, voice thick. “If it’s the only thing I’m able to do in my fucked up life, it’ll be making sure this is forever.” And Dean knows these words to be true. That he’ll risk everything for it. For Sammy.

Sam nods against his forehead, then leans in for a kiss. It’s deep, it’s gentle, and it conveys everything they both feel in that moment.

After another few minutes of silence: “Dean?”

“Sammy.”

“It’s barely noon,” Sam says, matter-of-factly, breath warm against Dean’s chest.

“So…?” Dean asks, curious where this is headed, getting hopeful despite himself.

He isn’t disappointed by the next words out of Sam’s mouth.

“Can I practice sucking your cock some more?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three will be up sometime next week! Make sure to tune in... I have a feeling it will be a good one! 
> 
> Make sure to leave comments (I love to hear what you guys think!) and kudos! xx


	3. Front Seat Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road again! But things are bound to be different now that Sam and Dean are fooling around. In a good way, of course. Chapter sneak peak: Sam tests an important theory, tells Dean a *riveting* story, and discovers just how much Dean can do with his tongue. All in all, I think Sam likes being on the road, at least at the moment :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming at you with another chapter that took way too long to write! I felt kind of blocked while writing this one (not like that, guys. Get your head out of the gutter) but I pushed through and I'm kinda sorta happy with the final result. On the bright side, the next few chapters are going to be really amazing. I'm serious, I kind of exploded with ideas today and let me tell ya, it's going to be really good.
> 
> But anyway! Hope you all enjoy! xx

Sam grumbles in the back seat of the impala, arms crossed, a deep scowl etched upon his face. He’s pissed, to put it simply, and they still have an agonizing amount of hours on the road.

“I’m just saying,” Sam says for what must be the fourth time, “that if you put it back on for just a few minutes, then I’ll stop bothering you about it!”

John shakes his head and casts a murderous glance at Sam in the rearview mirror. “Too low on gas, Sam. I’ve already told you.” 

It was clear their father was moments away from going all reign of terror. Sam knew it, but he was too annoyed to care. He was sweating buckets, his hair sticking to the back of his neck in the most uncomfortable way, and he wanted the damn AC on. They’ve been at it for the past ten miles, Sam arguing ceaselessly with his father, both of them refusing to let it go.

“We’re almost to the rest stop anyway, Sammy,” Dean pipes up from the passenger seat, the first time in ten miles. He’s looking back at Sam, his arm thrown over the back of the bench casually. Sam looks over at Dean and attempts to scowl, but it’s no use. He loves it when Dean calls him Sammy, and Dean knows it.

Sam feels some of his annoyance dissipate as he takes in Dean’s appearance: Dean is just as uncomfortable as he is, Sam figures. Dean’s cheeks are flushed, and a line of sweat covers his forehead. And luckily for Sam, Dean’s only wearing a tight t-shirt over his jeans instead of his usual flannel and coat ensemble. He loves the way Dean’s muscles strain against the fabric, the sweat on Dean’s body only making the shirt cling to him in the best way. Sam gives an involuntarily shiver. Dean smirks, because of course he notices. He always notices Sam’s reactions to him.

“Whatever,” Sam eventually says, after a pause that was beginning to verge on noticeably awkward. But he hears the own resign in his voice, and both John and Dean seem to relax. 

Sam takes to looking out the window, grumbling half-heartedly about the insane heat and how fucking uncomfortable he is. He shuts up, ultimately, and leans his forehead against the glass. 

He lets his thoughts drift, closing his eyes as he thinks about the last few days.

True to his word (surprisingly), John had come back from the job a little after 10 o’clock the next night after he left, covered in grime and smelling deeply of sulfur. By that time, Sam and Dean were on their respective beds, fully clothed, Dean cleaning his knives and Sam flipping through a book. Both acted like they hadn’t been making out heatedly just moments before, rubbing against each other like they hadn’t gotten off multiple times in the last few hours. 

Dean had insisted on freshening up and putting on clothes way too early that evening, paranoid that their dad would walk in at any moment. Sam had agreed, only because he hated seeing Dean so worried, but cleaning up had never been so much fun for Sam. They sneaked in kissed all throughout the tidying of the room, fixing the couch that had been practically uplifted, and making the beds that looked like a tornado had blown through them. 

They groaned into each other’s mouths as they had to separate to wash off, but in a bout of confidence, Sam had followed Dean into the steam of the shower and, as Dean’s eyes widened, went to his knees and sucked Dean off. 

Sam was getting good at blowjobs, he knew, based on Dean’s reactions that would only intensify each time Sam did it. And Sam did it a lot in those two days, begging Dean to let him practice, again and again and again. He couldn’t seem to get enough. He loved the taste of Dean, and he loved the noises Dean would make a when he was close, the look on his face as he moaned in pleasure. So Sam didn’t think Dean really minded. Plus, Sam always got one in return. 

Getting dressed had proven to be more difficult, since both brothers far more enjoyed undressing, for obvious reasons. But by some miracle, in between heated kisses and white-hot touches, they had gotten into clothes clean enough that said “No, we haven’t been having tons of oral sex while you were gone, dad.”

That was when they heard the rumble of the impala pull up right outside the room. They had sprung apart, Sam fumbling for his book, Dean dumping his knives all over the bed, and had just settled onto their beds when the door crashed open.

Sam wished his Dad had been late, days late, because obviously, he and Dean were getting along just fine without him. More than fine.

They had kissed and sucked and grinded against each other the entire two days, stopping only to pass out, exhausted, or to leave the motel for an hour or two to grab some things to eat and stretch their legs. Sam didn’t think he would ever get tired of being with Dean, and he had a feeling Dean felt the same way.

Their dad had dragged them out of the motel room early that morning, before the sun had risen, and they had been on the road for at least six hours now.

All Sam could think about was the next time he and Dean would be alone together, and what they would do. Maybe they could try that thing Dean had said in passing, the thing where he put his tongue—

“Sammy,” Dean says from the front seat, cutting through his thoughts, and he looks up sharply at Dean. “We’re here.” 

Sure enough, they’re pulled into a small gas station in the middle of nowhere, attached only to the smallest of mini-marts and nothing else. Around them are only highway and forest.

Sam gets out of the car slowly and groans as the stifling heat hits his body. He shuts the door and stretches his arms above his head, arching his back and closing his eyes, basking in the feeling of stretching out after a long car ride. When he opens his eyes, he sees Dean watching him over the roof of the car, his arms folded against his chest. Sam involuntarily lets a small moan slip out of his mouth as he finishes up his stretch, and doesn’t miss the pained look he gets from Dean in response. 

“Boys!” a voice calls, and Sam glances away from Dean to see their dad exiting the mini-mart. Once he reaches Dean, he slaps a bill into Dean’s hand and makes his way around to the driver’s side. “Go get what you want from the mart, and keep it to necessities only. Once I fill up the tank, we’re out of here.” He pops open the fuel tank and detaches the nozzle from the machine. “And Dean, you’re driving the rest of the way there. I haven’t slept in at least a day.”

It was true. John hadn’t gone to sleep when he came back, instead shuffling all over the motel room, packing up their things. Sam had been really pissed, since he wasn’t able to sneak into Dean’s bed like he had planned to.

Dean nods wordlessly and turns toward the mini-mart, signaling Sam to follow. He trails a few feet behind him, shamelessly looking at Dean’s ass as they walk into the store.

The AC hits Sam the moment he steps inside, and he closes his eyes at the feeling of cold air on his sweat-covered skin. “God that feels good,” he moans, not moving from the entrance to just stand there, directly under the air vent. 

A moment passes.

“Sam,” he hears Dean growl, and he opens his eyes to see Dean standing stiffly in front of him a few paces away, hands curled into fists at his side. “Get in here and pick what you want,” Dean says, voice low, before turning around and heading toward the refrigerated section. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam calls as Dean walks away. Sam raises an eyebrow, confused. What’s got Dean pissed off all of a sudden? He was only commenting on how the air conditioning felt…

Sam freezes. He gets it now, he thinks. All those times Dean had looked angry over the last few months... he wasn't angry. Dean was _turned on._ And he’s turned on now, apparently, because… Sam had stretched? Moaned at the AC? Sam grins and makes his way slowly to the fridges, a plan forming. Dean’s going to lose it if he's right about this, and it's risky with their dad right outside... But Sam wants to test his theory. He needs to see if he’s correct.

He finds Dean standing in front the line of fridges on the back wall, one of the clear fridge doors open and emitting cold steam. Sam opens the fridge nearest him and grabs a can of soda, then takes a deep breath. He’s slightly nervous; maybe he misread Dean’s expression? 

No, he’s pretty sure about this.

“Hey,” Sam says to get Dean’s attention, and Dean looks at him, slowly closing the fridge door.

“Did you get what you want?” Dean asks, walking toward him.

Sam nods. “I was feeling really hot,” Sam says, and shows him the can of soda he picked. “I know dad doesn’t usually let us get soda, but…” Sam looks at Dean and lets his eyes grow wide, putting on a small pout. Dean freezes mid step. “Do you think we can get it anyway, big brother?” Sam asks, purposely calling him what Dean admitted just a day ago makes him horny.

Dean takes a sharp breath in, his eyes wide. “W-what,” Dean says, voice strained. His face then begins to twist into that all-familiar expression that could've been mistaken for anger, except now Sam knows better. 

“Can I get some soda, big brother?” he repeats, confidence growing, taking a step closer to Dean.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dean asks, looking around frantically for witnesses. “Dad’s right outside. We can’t—”

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Sam points out. “I’m only asking my big brother if I can get a can of soda.” His voice is innocent and child-like, and he knows it’s driving Dean crazy.

Dean groans softly and looks away from Sam. “Sam…” he warns, taking a step back. “You know very well what you’re doing.” He glances back at Sam, as if unable to look away for too long.

“Can I get the soda, Dee?” he asks again, and bites his lip experimentally, wondering what Dean will think about that.

Turns out Dean likes that quite a bit. Maybe even too much.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and swipes the can out of Sam’s hand before he can blink. Sam’s eyes widen for real this time as Dean grabs his wrist and pushes him up against the fridges, the cold bleeding through Sam’s shirt, making him gasp. Sam doubts Dean would do this if the mini-mart weren’t empty or they weren’t surrounded on either side by junk food. “The next time we’re alone, you’re so going to get it,” Dean whispers throatily into Sam’s ear. 

“What?” Sam asks, voice high, body filling with warmth at Dean’s breath on his neck. “W-Why?” He doesn’t really care why. In fact, he wishes he and Dean were alone right now.

“Because now I have to drive six hours with a raging hard-on, next to the person who caused it, unable to do anything about it,” Dean growls, “because our fucking father is in the car with us.” Sam shivers and glances down. Sure enough, Dean’s cock is bulging against his jeans.

“O-oops,” Sam stammers, looking back up at Dean, who now has an amused smile on his face through his lust.

“Oops?” Dean repeats, smile growing.

“Its just, I was only curious if—“ he cuts himself off, feeling heat rise into his cheeks.

“What,” Dean demands, looking at Sam. “Tell me.”

“I-I was curious if… if you were turned on… because y-you looked angry… but I thought maybe it wasn’t anger… that maybe you were …” he trails off. This sounded so much better in his head. 

There's a pause, and Dean's expression slowly changes from amused lust to exasperated understanding.

“That’s stupid,” Dean says, and Sam winces and looks away. He knows that _now._ “No,” Dean shakes his head, seeing Sam’s expression. “No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he says, his voice growing soft. Sam feels a thumb brush across his cheek, tilting his head up. Sam looks into Dean’s eyes, drinking in the bright green. “I meant, that’s stupid, because you should know just how much you affect me, Sammy. You don’t need to wonder.” He shakes his head. “Sam, seriously, don’t you get it?”

Sam shrugs. “I didn’t know,” Sam says softly. “Those faces you always used to make, I used to think you were angry at me. But now that I know how you feel, I wanted to see if I was right…” he trails off. “Sorry.”

Dean laughs softly. “Don’t apologize. You were right, Sammy. I was never angry. When you see me with a face like that, chances are it’s because I’m rock hard and thinking about your lips around my cock.” 

Sam gasps, and he feels his own cock twitch in his pants. Then he thinks of all the times Dean made that angry face in the last few months, in the least few _years_ , he realizes, and his cock gets completely hard. It seems Dean has felt this way for a while.

“Now, lets go,” Dean says, continuing as if he didn’t just give Sam a boner in the middle of a gas station mini-mart. Then again, Sam did give Dean one first. “Dad is probably having an aneurism because we’re taking so long, and I still need to buy your soda.” Dean lets go of Sam’s wrist and steps around him, heading to the register, Sam following behind in a daze. “But, Sammy, I still meant what I said.”

“What?” Sam asks, blindly bumping into Dean’s back when he suddenly stops walking.

“The next time we’re alone,” Dean reminds him, looking back at Sam to give him a wide smirk. “I’ll get you back.” And Dean walks away, leaving Sam to stand there, mouth open.  
__

Sam enjoys the rest of the car ride. Since their dad needs to sleep, he takes the back seat, and Sam gets to sit up front with Dean. He grins as he slides in next to Dean, and Dean grins back.

They pull back onto the highway, and Dean turns on the radio to some god-awful rock station that Sam hates, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He leans his head back on the bench, facing Dean, and just watches. He watches the focused gleam of Dean’s eyes on the road, the full curve of his lips, the way the sun casts shadows on his cheeks. 

Eventually, snores drift from the back seat, and Sam immediately moves to Dean’s side and lays his head on his shoulder. Dean stiffens at first, surprised, but then leans into Sam’s touch, a small sigh escaping from Dean’s lips. 

“Love you, Sammy,” Dean whispers.

Sam smiles against Dean’s shoulder. “Love you too, Dee.”

They drive in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sound the soft music and their dad’s snores. Sam lets his eyes close, enjoying the warmth that radiates from Dean’s shoulder and onto his cheek. His mind eventually drifts to the day before, when Dean’s low voice had whispered sweet nothings into his ear as they lied on the bed, facing each other, Dean’s hand around Sam’s cock. He was moving so slow over Sam, the sensation practically burning. Sam sighs, shifting slightly in his seat as he feels his pants tighten.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean says, voice soft.

“Hmm?” Sam replies, nuzzling his face further into Dean’s shoulder.

“What are thinking about?” he asks, curious.

Sam shrugs, face beginning to grow red. “I don’t know,” he mumbles.

Dean laughs. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

Sam sighs, tilting his head so he can see the skin of Dean’s neck. “Don’t laugh,” he says.

“Never,” Dean replies, though he sounds amused.

“Seriously, Dean.”

“I won’t! I swear,” Dean chuckles.

Sam takes a breath. “I was thinking about yesterday,” Sam lets out slowly, deciding to leave it at that.

A pause. “What about yesterday?” Dean asks, his voice suddenly low and raspy. 

Sam clears his throat, embarrassed. “When we woke up,” he says softly. “It was really early, and we just laid there for a bit. It was nice. And then…”

“Yeah?” Dean says, whispering, as if trying not to scare Sam.

“You know,” Sam says. Dean was there, after all.

“I guess I do, but maybe I want to hear you say it,” Dean admits.

Sam makes sure he still hears their dad’s snores before continuing, letting his mind wander to yesterday morning. “You kissed me,” he begins, “and then told me that you had never been as happy as you were then,” Sam says, moving his lips closer to Dean’s neck. “You said you loved me. That was the second time you said it, the first time after the first time.” 

Dean chuckles. “You’re counting?” he asks, amused.

“So what if I am?” Sam asks, cheeks burning.

“Nothing,” Dean says. “Then what?”

“Then…” Sam clears his throat. “Then, you started kissing down my neck, and licking, and,” he clears his throat again. “And then I got hard,” he mumbles. “And you started stroking me, so slow that it almost hurt, but in a good way.”

“A good way?” Dean echoes, voice light and breathy.

“A good way,” Sam confirms. “And as you were touching me, you kept whispering things in my ear, and it made me feel so good.”

“What did I whisper?”

“You said— you said that you loved touching me. That you loved the feel of my hard cock in your hand.” Sam is whispering against Dean’s neck now, and he sees goose bumps rise on his brother’s skin. “By then, I was so close to coming, and I told you so. And you said you wanted me to, right in your hand, to show you how good you were making me feel.”

Dean nods slightly, saying nothing, silently urging Sam to continue.

“So as I came, I told you that you made me feel so good, the best, and you kissed me as I calmed down. And then…” he trails off, hardly able to say the next part.

“Say it, Sammy,” Dean rumbles quietly, voice thick.

“Th-then, you raised your hand up to our faces, and it was covered in my…” he pauses. “And you started to lick if off your fingers.” Sam takes a deep breath. “I asked you what it tasted like, and you said it tasted like me. Then you kissed me again, to show me, and you asked me if it was good.” 

“That’s what I asked?” Dean’s voice cracks.

Sam nods. “I told you it was, but yours was better, and you just groaned and kissed me again.” Sam breathes in the smell of Dean’s skin. “Then we fell back asleep until later.”

Dean nods slowly. “It was a good day,” he says, his hands tight on the wheel.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees.

Another pause. 

“I can’t wait until we have time alone,” Dean groans, shifting in his seat. “Hopefully dad leaves the moment we get to a motel.”

Sam nods against Dean enthusiastically. “And then we can do that thing you mentioned,” he says.

Dean chuckles, voice low. “God, yes. We can do that.”

Sam smiles and closes his eyes. “I’m sort of tired,” Sam mumbles into Dean’s neck.

“Sleep, Sammy. I’ll wake you when we’re close.”

Sam nods again before drifting off.

__

“Sam,” a voice whispers. “Sam, wake up. Sammy.”

Sam cracks open a bleary eye. “Wahthappen?” he slurs through his drowsiness. 

A laugh. “It’s all good, Sammy. Not there yet, but we stopped for a bit.”

Sam sits up and rubs his eyes roughly, looking around. It’s dark outside. They’re parked on a residential street, and it’s completely empty, the only light coming from the lone lamppost at the end of the road. Then he glances into the unoccupied back seat. “Where’s dad?” he asks, more awake now, eyes adjusting to the darkness. 

“Calm down, Sammy,” Dean says softly. “I said everything’s fine. Dad wanted to stop at some hunter’s house. Said he had some business with him, or something.” Dean sounds slightly frustrated, and Sam looks over at him to see a small frown on his face. He’s leaning back against the window, one leg drawn up against his chest.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Sam asks, worried.

Dean sighs heavily. “Yeah, just annoyed. Dad won’t tell me what this is about, so I figured…” he trails off.

“Mom?” Sam whispers very quietly, and Dean nods. 

Sam moves closer to put a hand on Dean’s knee, and Dean offers a smile. “It’s okay, Sammy. But it might be awhile. Dad said to get comfortable.”

Sam nods, looking out the windshield again. 

A few minutes of silence go by.

“Where are we, anyway?” 

“About halfway through Nebraska,” Dean replies, “some town called Seward. We still have some driving to do.”

Sam nods again, look back at Dean. Dean is looking out the windshield, a faraway look on his face. Sam moves his eyes down, observing his chest muscles through his shirt. He can see Dean’s nipples poking against the fabric, and for some reason, that really turns Sam on, and he imagines sucking them over his shirt. Sam’s dick was still half hard from earlier that day, but now is snaps back to full attention, getting fully stiff in an instant.

Sam moves a hand to brush over his jeans and bites his lip as warm pleasure begins to spread throughout his stomach. He looks back up at Dean’s face, and he sees Dean is watching Sam closely, his eyes dark. Sam freezes, his hand stilling over his crotch, cheeks burning.

“Dean,” Sam says, willing himself not to look away from Dean’s eyes.

“Yeah?” Dean replies, voice rough. 

“How long did you say dad was going to be?”

Dean pauses. “He said… a-awhile.”

Sam nods, swallowing dryly before continuing. “Didn’t you say earlier you were going to get me back the next time we were alone?” he reminds Dean, shifting closer.

Dean nods. “I did.”

Sam waits, but Dean does nothing. “So… what exactly are you waiting for?” he asks, moving a hand to tug on the fabric at Dean’s leg. Dean glances behind Sam, out the passenger window, and shakes his head slightly. 

“I don’t know Sam… this seems too risky.”

Sam raises his other hand to Dean’s face and forces Dean to look at him. “Dean,” he says, voice pleading, and leans in to kiss him roughly. “Please,” he says against Dean, biting at Dean’s lower lip.

“Sam,” Dean groans, voice pained. 

Sam scowls. “I’m beginning to think you gave me an empty threat, Dee,” Sam says, licking across Dean’s lips.

Dean growls and kisses Sam back. “Wasn’t empty,” he says, his tongue hot against Sam’s.

“Oh yeah?” Sam asks, leaning close to rub his hard cock against Dean’s leg. “Then prove it,” Sam says, and not a second after the words are out of his mouth, he’s shoved back across the seat, Dean’s hands on his waist, pushing him down.

“Oh, I will,” Dean promises against his lips, and starts tugging Sam’s pants down his legs. Sam gasps, raising his hips to help, groaning as his jeans scrape across his hard cock on the way down. “I’m going to make you beg for it,” Dean growls as he pulls off the pants, stuffing them somewhere behind him, then pulls off Sam’s shirt and lets it slide off the side of the bench. Sam nods, completely okay with begging, as long as he gets what he wants in the end.

Dean rubs Sam roughly over his briefs, and he moans. “Dean!” he cries out, bucking up into his hand, heat spreading into his gut. Dean forces his hips back down into the bench cushion.

“Flip over,” Dean growls, and Sam’s eyes widen. 

“Huh?” he asks lamely.

“Flip over,” Dean says again. “I’m going to make you feel good, Sammy.” He presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “Do you trust me?”

Sam nods and turns around, on his knees, his forearms against the seat to hold him up, his ass in the air. “I trust you, Dee,” he gasps.

Dean groans and leans over Sam’s form, kissing his neck and biting his earlobe. Sam bucks back, and feels his ass press against Dean’s cock, making Dean groan loudly.

“Shit, Sammy,” Dean says, and Sam feels Dean’s fingertips slip into the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down over his ass. Sam gasps in anticipation as Dean’s hand roam his bare ass cheeks. 

Then Dean’s hands squeeze, and Sam cries out loudly, the pain turning into pleasure, rocking back to shove his ass further into Dean’s hands. “Dean,” he gasps, trembling.

“That feel good, Sammy?” Dean asks, his nose brushing against Sam’s back.

“Y-yeah, Dean. So good,” he says, whimpering. Dean squeezes again, rougher, this time spreading his cheeks apart slightly and blowing into the skin there, making Sam yelp out Dean’s name.

Dean’s face is at the base of Sam’s spine now, and he licks the skin, right above where Sam’s ass begins. The sudden wetness makes Sam rock backwards, desperate. He can’t see Dean or what he’s about to do, so he tries to raise his head to look behind him, but he can’t twist far enough. 

“Dean,” Sam whines. “W-what are you—Oh god!” Sam screams. Dean’s tongue swipes a line between Sam’s cheeks, and Sam bucks violently back into Dean’s touch. Dean growls at Sam’s reaction and licks down his ass again. “Deeaaan!” Sam cries out, arching his back, desperate for more. He knows now what Dean mentioned the day before, what it was that involved tongue. And Sam loves it.

“You like that?” Dean asks, spreading Sam open wider, pressing his fingertips into his skin roughly. “My tongue in your ass?” Sam nods frantically, trying to buck back, but Dean holds him firmly. “It gets better,” Dean whispers, and Sam shivers.

Sam feels Dean’s warm breath on his skin. His cheeks are suddenly spread wider, and then Dean flickers his tongue right over Sam’s hole, wet and hot. Sam’s eyes role back into his head, the sensation so strong it makes his whole body shake violently. He screams Dean’s name, pressing back against Dean’s mouth. 

Dean moans and licks over his hole again, this time dipping his tongue inside Sam slightly. “Oh god, oh fuck, fuck, Dean!” Sam cries. He shoves in face into the seat, trying to muffle his moans. Dean’s wet warmth radiates throughout his entire body, and his spine feels likes it’s melting into a puddle of heat. “So good! So damn good, Dean!”

“You’re so fucking tight, Sammy,” Dean moans before licking again, this time with more pressure, moving his tongue deeper into Sam’s hole and doing god knows what, making Sam’s gut clench and his cock twitch. He feels almost undone, and Dean’s only just started.

“D-Dean, I’m s-so c-close,” Sam moans, still trying to press himself tighter against Dean’s tongue, needing more. “Y-your tongue feels s-so good,” he whimpers, breathing heavy. He whines as Dean’s mouth sucks softly, his tongue swirling before dipping back inside him. Sam’s eyes are shut tight, his hands digging into the seat. “I need more, Dean, please,” Sam gasps. 

Dean lifts his mouth to kiss Sam’s ass cheeks, roughly grabbing them with his hands, grazing his teeth on the taught skin. Sam shivers, whimpering. “More, Dean! Not less!” he cries, panting. 

“More of my tongue in your ass?” Dean asks, voice low, licking along the edge of his cheeks, though not nearly close enough to where Sam wants. 

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam whines. “Put your fucking tongue in my ass, just do it, god please, I need it.”

“Fuck, Sammy, you need it?” Dean growls, licking a hot line behind Sam’s balls, slowly dragging upwards. Sam moans in ecstasy.

“I need it, big brother. Give it to me,” Sam begs, pushing his ass back again, and this time Dean pulls Sam roughly to his mouth and licks an agonizingly wet swipe up and down his crack before putting his tongue back over his hole, pushing slowly into Sam’s heat. Sam cries out in pleasure. “Yes, Dean, right there, god yes!”

Dean pushes his tongue in and out of Sam at an unbearably satisfying pace, bringing Sam closer and closer, his orgasm building dangerously hot in his gut. “Deeann,” Sam moans loudly, feeling so good he can barely hold himself up. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna-!”

Suddenly Dean flips Sam over so he’s lying on his back again, and Dean takes Sam’s hot cock into his hand, pumping up and down roughly. Sam gasps at the sudden change in position, then screams as fire erupts through him, throwing his head back as he releases all over his chest. His back is arched off the seat, eyes shut tight. His hips are bucking into Dean’s hand as he rides out his orgasm, whimpering Dean’s name. 

Soon, his thrusts weaken, and after a few more pumps of Dean’s hands, he stills completely. Sam feels drained, so completely sated that he’s fine with just passing out right now, naked and sprawled across the front seat. 

Sam’s eyes are closed, but he feels Dean reach across him to the glove compartment and rummage around. Eventually he feels a scratchy cloth wiping off his stomach and chest, and he sighs, opening his eyes to see Dean looking down at him with bright green eyes as he cleans him off. 

“We should get you dressed,” Dean says, fumbling behind him until he finds Sam’s jeans and shirt, holding them out toward Sam. Sam just stares at them, eyes blinking slowly. Dean chuckles. “Lazyass,” he says, though there’s no heat behind his words, and he slips Sam’s underwear back on before pulling his jeans on, over his feet, up his calves, across his thighs. 

When he reaches Sam’s hips, Sam makes no move to make this easier on Dean, but Dean only sighs, lifting up Sam on his own to slip the jeans over his ass and to his waist. He buttons them and zips him up. He then pulls Sam’s shirt over his head, trying to tug it down as best he can over Sam’s stubbornly unmoving body. Eventually, the shirt is on, and he pulls it down to rest against his stomach. “There,” Dean says, patting his chest. “You’re good.” 

“Okay,” Sam mutters. 

Dean laughs. “He speaks!”

“Shut up,” Sam says, but he’s so tired it comes out like a sigh. Dean just laughs again. 

“Well,” Dean says, looking at the clock on the dashboard. “That killed about ten minutes.”

Sam blushes at his pathetic inability to hold out when Dean touches him. “Then lets go again,” Sam says, and Dean laughs so loud it makes the seat vibrate. Sam gets caught up in it, and laughs with him. “What’s so funny?” he asks between laughter, only causing Dean to laugh harder.

“You can barely move, Sam,” Dean gasps, holding his chest as he wheezes. “I don’t think you’re doing anything for a while.” Sam grumbles but doesn’t argue, knowing Dean’s right. He feels heavy, but in a good way. Dean leans down and presses a soft kiss to Sam’s lips, still smiling. “At least we know I’m good,” Dean chuckles, and Sam smacks his shoulder weakly.

Sam feels bad, though. He wants Dean to come too, but he knows he won’t be able to really do anything for him right now. He thinks about a way he can help, any way, and suddenly, an idea sparks in his mind.

Sam raises his hands to slide his shirt up, just that movement using great amounts of energy. Dean watches with a curious look as Sam moves up the fabric until it sits against his neck, his entire chest and stomach exposed. “Dean, I want you to feel good,” Sam says, and arches his back slightly in offering. “I’ll help.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, confused. “But we already said…” he trails off as Sam arches his back again, his eyes drinking in Sam’s bare skin.

“You can use my stomach,” Sam whispers. “Rub your cock on me, Dean, until you come.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Sam,” he breathes.

“I want you to, Dean. Use me,” he says softly, looking directly into Dean’s eyes. “Please? I want you to feel good,” he says again.

Sam watches Dean, something obviously happening behind those green eyes. Dean looks back at Sam, biting his lip, and eventually seems to find something in Sam’s expression that lets him make a decision.

Dean reaches down and unbuckles his jeans, and Sam smiles wide, warmth filling his body. 

Dean tugs down his jeans as far as they can go, then follows suit with his briefs, his huge erection springing free. He sits back on his heels and takes off his shirt, throwing it into the back seat. Then he looks down at Sam, taking him in with lust-filled eyes, and wraps a hand around his cock, pumping himself a few times. His breathing already begins to speed up. 

“Dammit, Sammy,” Dean groans, leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Dean,” Sam sighs against his lips, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. 

Dean brings his hips down, groaning as his cock makes contact with Sam’s warm skin. Sam makes a sound of content into Dean’s mouth as he feels Dean’s hot erection against him, smooth and big. Dean breaks the kiss to press his forehead against Sam’s, and begins to thrust upward against Sam’s stomach. 

“Sammy,” Dean groans, keeping a slow pace, breathing heavily, hot gasps hitting Sam’s face.

“Does it feel good, Dean?” Sam asks, arching his back up against Dean’s cock, making Dean groan.

“So good, Sammy,” Dean pants. “Feels so good. Only you make me feel like this.”

Sam grins. “That makes me really happy, Dean,” Sam admits. “You always make me feel like I’m on fire, and I just want to make you feel like that, too.”

“Like fire, Sammy,” Dean agrees. “Feels like fire.” Sam smiles at that.

He continues talking, wanting to turn Dean on even more. “And your cock,” Sam murmurs. “It feels so hard and warm. You feel so good rubbing up against me, big brother.”

Dean groans, beginning to move faster against Sam, and Sam feels pre-come drip onto his stomach in warm drops. 

“Are you close, Dean?” Sam asks, voice low. “Are you going to come on me?”

Dean nods, his thrusts growing rougher, his hips snapping forward erratically. “So close, Sammy. So close,” he pants. 

“Come all over me, big brother. I want to feel it on me, I want to taste it,” Sam says, and Dean moans, a high-pitched moan like nothing Sam has ever heard before. Sam grins at the sound. “Come on, big brother,” he continues. “Do it.”

Dean’s hips grow uncontrolled, moving against Sam in irregular thrusts, shouting out Sam’s name in great gasps. He moves once more, twice, a third time before he’s coming violently, his hands gripping the cushion to either side of Sam’s head, his forehead pressed roughly against Sam’s. A warm wetness covers Sam’s chest, and he glances down to see Dean’s cock twitching against his stomach, releasing the final amounts of his orgasm. Dean shudders as he stills, and leans down to kiss Sam one final time before collapsing on him, burying his face in Sam’s neck.

“God,” Dean groans, breathing loudly in Sam’s ear. Sam closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Dean’s back, pulling him close. “What am I gonna do with you, Sammy?” he wonders aloud, but Sam doesn’t bother answering. He closes his eyes and listens to Dean’s breathing slow down as he comes down from his high.

After a few moments, Dean sits back up, head swiveling, in search of something.

“What is it?” Sam whispers.

“It’s… never mind, found it,” Dean replies, pulling a dirty looking towel from the floor of the car and moves to wipe Sam off for the second time that night.

Sam catches his wrist before he can, looking up at Dean. “Wait,” he says, and moves his hand to catch some of Dean’s come off his stomach. Dean’s eyes widen. 

Without looking away from Dean, Sam raises his finger to his mouth and sucks it clean, moaning at the taste of it. It’s salty and warm and for some reason, one of the best things Sam has ever tasted. “It’s definitely better than mine,” Sam comments as he pulls his finger away with a loud smack. “It must just be because it’s yours.”

Dean shakes his head slowly, his mouth open. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, wiping off the rest with the scratchy towel, then wiping his own chest. “Unbelievable.”

Sam just grins as Dean reaches down to pull Sam’s shirt back over his chest, then reaches into the backseat to grab his own, pulling it quickly over his head. Dean then fumbles a bit until he’s sitting correctly in his seat, and lifts his hips to pull up his briefs and jeans, buckling them quickly into place. Sam watches this all with a lazy expression, simply enjoying watching him.

Dean glances at Sam and grins, resting his hands on the wheel like nothing had ever happened. The only signs are his slightly disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, though one could easily blame that on the heat.

“You gonna sit up, Sam?” Dean asks, highly amused, and Sam sticks his tongue out as he sits upright, straightening out his shirt, body feeling heavy and exhausted. 

“Jerk,” he mutters with a smile.

“Bitch,” Dean replies, grinning. 

A knock on the passenger window, suddenly, in the silence, and Sam jumps at least eight feet in the air, scooting back towards Dean before he even bothers to check who it his. Dean has his knife out and his clutching the back of Sam’s shirt in an instant, his eyes flashing at the far window.

It’s John. And not a moment too soon. 

Dean curses, flipping his knife closed and pressing a button behind him to unlock the doors. The door swings open, and John leans his head in.

“Didn’t scare you, did I?” he asks, face only just visible in the darkness.

“No dad, you only made Sammy piss his pants and sent me into cardiac arrest,” Dean snaps, shoving his knife roughly back into his pocket.

“I would say sorry,” their dad says, “but it’s good you were on alert. Anyway, I’m finished here. Let’s get the hell outta dodge.” He moves aside, signaling for Sam to get out of the front seat and move to the back.

Sam’s heart is beating wildly against his chest, all traces of exhaustion gone. Eyes wide, he looks back at Dean, who is glaring down into his lap, eyebrows creased, and then back at the open car door. He wanted more time with Dean, even if it was just to sit next to him on the same seat. 

He feels anger, suddenly. Anger at his dad, for always seeming to come back at the exact wrong time. Anger that he can’t be alone with Dean all the time. Anger that they have to work so hard to hide what they're doing because they're brothers, and their dad would probably kill them if he found out.

But he tries hard to push it aside and sighs, finally climbing out of the car, not bothering to look at his dad. He thinks he might punch him in the face if he does. 

He opens the back door roughly, clambers in, then moves to slam it shut. But it catches on something, and Sam looks sharply back to see what’s holding it back.

A hand, one he’d know as well as his own.

Dean bends down and pokes his head into the back seat. “Mind if I join you?” he asks casually, sliding in beside Sam and pulling the door shut. “I feel like taking a nap. So don’t bother me,” he says, his tone mocking, and after checking that John is in the driver’s seat and turned away from them, Dean winks at him. Sam smiles wide, making room for Dean to sprawl out on the bench. He feels elated, brimming with happiness, as if he was never angry in the first place. Dean always knows what Sam is thinking, and exactly what to do to cheer him up.

John pulls away from the curb and into the night, the car humming beneath them. Sam watches as Dean gets comfortable, throwing Sam a smirk every now and then as he moves around. Eventually, he leans back and closes his eyes, his legs stretched out across the bench, feet almost but not quite touching Sam’s thigh.

Sam leans back against his own window, feeling his tiredness from before wash over him in a sudden wave. He lifts his legs to stretch them across the seat too, pressing them against Dean’s. He sees Dean smile, and feels Dean press his legs right back against his.

God, does Sam love his brother with everything he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four is practically writing itself, guys. You will seriously want to tune in next week :)
> 
> Make sure to let me know what you guys think in the comments, and don't forget to leave a kudos! Until next time!


	4. There and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has to go on a hunt, which usually isn't a big deal, except both brothers feel a little differently about this trip. Sam doesn't want Dean to leave... How will Dean convince him that everything will be okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Here we are again! I'm a little bit in love with this chapter, though that may be an author's bias, who knows? I hope you all enjoy this one. Sneak peak? Sure... let's just say there's a special phone call in this chapter that you can look forward to :)  
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters but enjoy making them do whatever I want! Credit to the creators of SPN for these boys, credit to me for my dirty-ass ideas.  
> Enjoy! xx

Dean tries to break the news to Sam as softly as he can, even though this shouldn't be any different than any of the times before. 

But it is, though, isn't it? This is Dean's first hunting trip since he and Sam began their little... Whatever this was. And for some reason, even though Dean couldn't place exactly how, he knew Sam wasn't going to take this well.

He ran the short speech in his head over and over before he had to confront Sam, making sure to cover the basics, and to make sure and play up that it was a simple run and that Sam should in no way be more worried about Dean than he usually was. 

So when he and Sam are lying back against the scratchy motel pillows, naked and spent, Dean leaning back against the headboard with Sam’s head on his chest, Dean tells him. 

And he was right. Sam doesn’t take it well.

"We'll only be half a state away," Dean says quickly as he sees Sam's face begin to twist into an adorable yet gut-wrenching scowl. "Small nest of vamps. Dad can't take them on his own, needs me as backup, but we'll be back in half a week. The time spent traveling there and back, and a day or two to take out the bloodsuckers. Simple." He won’t have to worry, he tells Sam. He’ll make sure to call and check in, especially if they think they are going to run late. 

"How about you _don’t_ run late," Sam snaps at him, like it's really that simple, even though they both know it isn't. He crosses his arms over his bare chest, his scowl deepening, neck turned upwards so he can look at Dean. To anyone else, Sam would look plain angry. But Dean sees right through it, the worry and fear etched so clearly in his little brother's hazel eyes that it cuts through Dean like a knife. 

"Sammy, this isn't any different than all the other times I’ve had to go." Lie. 

"But isn't it?" Sam asks. "Now that...” He pauses, and Dean remains silent, letting Sam sort through his thoughts. “I always get scared shitless when you go away to kill God knows what,” he eventually admits, and Dean winces at the raw tone of Sam’s voice. “It's not like I haven't been worried before now. But this… it _feels_ different, Dean. Like..." He takes a deep breath, and Dean runs his fingers down Sam's arm lightly. 

"Like what?" Dean asks softly.

"Nothing," Sam says, and looks away. Dean feels Sam shift against him. "It's stupid. It _shouldn’t_ be any different."

But Dean gets it. Hell, he probably understands more than Sam will ever know. This feels different for Dean, too. He’s always a little strung out before a hunt, not even so much about the monsters he's bound to face, but more about Sammy, having to leave him in an empty motel room every time he and his dad have to leave. He's always hated being separated from Sam, even if it was just for a few days. Those days always seemed to drag longer. 

And doesn't Dean feel that same feeling now, except a million times stronger? He’s always cared for Sam. He’s loved Sam before they started the physical stuff. But now, Dean feels like when he walks out that door, his throat will constrict, and he won't be able to breathe right until he's back with Sam in his arms.

It sounds damn corny. Fucking stupid as all hell. But as Dean sits there with Sam's head on his chest, the heat of his naked body lying against his, he can't imagine leaving him for a second. 

Not that he would ever admit that. Because he’s Dean and he doesn’t say nauseating things like that, no matter how much they’re true.

"I know," he says to the top of Sam’s head, instead of the words bubbling up in his throat, how he doesn't want to leave him, how he wishes he can stay, that he’s just as unwilling to go as Sam is to have him leave. "But I swear, I'll be back before you know it. Get in, kill the sons of bitches, then get out. Simple as that. Same as usual."

Sam is silent for a bit, but his hand eventually moves up to rest on Dean's chest, right below his collarbone. "Promise?" Sam whispers, his fingers beginning to trace invisible circles on Dean's skin. 

Dean hums, closing his eyes as goose bumps rise at Sam's touch. "Promise, Sammy. I'll be there and back before you know it."

Sam nods against his chest, the messy strands of his hair tickling Dean's skin. "Okay," he says quietly. 

“Yeah?” Dean asks. 

“Yeah,” Sam confirms.

"And when I'm back, I'll make it up to you," Dean says, allowing heat to enter his voice. He immediately feels Sam respond. His body tenses, and he trembles against Dean, softly but entirely noticeable. 

Sam’s hand travels down Dean’s chest until it reaches the slight rise of his pecs, and he brushes his fingers over Dean’s nipple, tracing the circumference. Dean stays still, closing his eyes and moving his head to nuzzle into the top of Sam’s hair. He shivers as Sam’s fingers squeeze around the hardening nub, and Dean lets out a groan, arching his back into the touch.

“I’d rather you make it up to me now, Dee,” Sam whispers, and leans in to Dean, pressing a wet kiss to his nipple before biting it gently. “I’m pretty upset.”

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean moans, the arm not wrapped around Sam moving down to clutch the sheets. “It’s like you never get tired.”

Sam mumbles an agreement as he flickers his tongue over Dean. “I’ll have to wait _days_ to do this again,” he groans, moving to capture Dean’s other nipple in his mouth. Dean presses his fingertips into Sam’s back, pulling him closer. 

“I’m sure it won’t be th-that bad,” Dean grunts, his cock growing harder with each wet lick of Sam’s tongue. 

Sam detaches himself from Dean’s chest to look up, and it takes all of Dean’s control to not whimper like a kid at the loss of Sam’s tongue. 

“It’ll be bad,” Sam assures him, wetting his lips, looking Dean in the eyes. Then suddenly, Sam raises his hand to his mouth and he _licks,_ one agonizingly slow swipe of his pink tongue across his palm that makes Dean’s mouth go dry. Sam doesn’t look away as he reaches down under the sheets and wraps his now wet hand around Dean’s painfully hard erection. Dean gasps, Sam wasting no time to move his hand roughly over Dean, swiping his thumb over the tip every time he moves up. 

Dean hisses a string of curses, bucking his hips up to meet Sam’s movements. He’s going to miss this so fucking much while he’s away. His own hand feels nothing like the sweet burn of his little brother’s. 

“Do you even care that you’re going?” Sam asks softly in his ear.

“I hate it,” Dean bites out, gasping as Sam’s thumb presses into the slit on the head of his cock. “Hate leaving you here.”

Sam hums. “I’m going to hate not being able to touch you,” he whimpers, nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck and kissing his skin softly, hand moving faster. “And I’m going to hate that you won’t be here to touch me.” Dean grunts something that he hopes sounds like an agreement. “And I hate that you have to go put your life on the line every time you go,” Sam says. “I hate that more than anything.”

Dean can’t hold in his whine then, because Sam’s hand becomes tighter over him, and his words hit Dean like a sack of bricks. “Sammy,” he whispers, and gathers all his self control to pull Sam’s hand off him and flip over, pushing Sam into the mattress by his wrists. 

Sam gasps in surprise, his hands trapped to either side of his head, Dean straddling his legs. Dean looks down at Sam’s face, taking in his wide hazel eyes, his bottom lip caught tantalizingly between his teeth. 

“I promised it would be fine,” Dean says forcefully. “And I keep my promises, baby brother.” Before Sam can give an inevitable reaction to his new title, Dean leans down and crushes their lips together. Sam sighs, opening his mouth to allow in Dean’s tongue, meeting his in wet heat. Dean kisses him roughly, their teeth clashing together, exploring Sam’s mouth in the way he knows Sam loves so much. Sam’s lips are soft, the taste of his mouth intoxicatingly sweet. Dean moans, and Sam swallows it, biting down on Dean’s bottom lip. 

When they both come up for air, Dean moves to Sam’s jaw, dragging his lips along Sam’s skin, Sam breathing heavily. “I promise,” Dean says, and Sam shivers. “I _promise._

He reaches Sam’s ear and sucks on the earlobe, scraping his teeth against it, causing Sam to moan and struggle against Dean’s hands. Dean pushes him down harder, not allowing him to move, and travels further down Sam’s neck, licking and nipping his way across his hot skin. Dean stops where the curve of Sam’s shoulder begins and bites down, sucking and flickering his tongue in a way that he knows will cause Sam to lose it. 

And Sam does. He arches his back and tries moving his hands to wrap around Dean’s neck, but Dean is unrelenting, not allowing his wrists an inch of movement. Dean continues his attack on Sam’s neck, his teeth grazing the plume of purple that has appeared from his sucking. When Dean sees it, it makes him grin. He loves marking Sam, claiming him as his own, and when he presses down gently against the bruise, he knows Sam loves it just as much. Sam whimpers and bucks his hips against Dean, and Dean groans when he feels Sam’s erection against his own.

“Dean, let me go,” Sam gasps, struggling against him, causing his erection to rub agonizingly against Dean. Dean hisses but shakes his head.

“No, Sammy,” and kisses him again before moving to his chest and giving him exactly what Sam had to him. He takes Sam’s hard nipple in his mouth and flicks his tongue over it before biting down as hard as he dares. 

Sam gasps and arches his back. “Dean!” he moans, his hips thrusting up in a desperate attempt at both friction and trying to throw Dean off him to free his wrists. Dean only chuckles and moves to the next nipple, repeating his ministrations of biting and licking. Sam is a whimpering mess, his head thrown to the side against the pillows, stomach moving up and down in shallow breaths. “If you don’t stop, I’ll come,” Sam gasps. “It’s too good, Dean, oh god it’s so good,” he cries.

Dean lifts his head from Sam’s chest. “That’s right,” Dean teases. “You have a habit of coming with just my tongue on you, huh?” Dean enjoys the sight of Sam’s blush at his words. But Dean stops. He doesn’t want Sam to come yet. He’s going to make Sam feel so fucking good before he has to leave, and he wants this to last for as long as he can. 

Sam whines anyway when Dean stops, and Dean laughs. “So impatient,” Dean says, pressing a dry kiss to Sam’s lips before pulling away. Sam looks up at him, his wrists still annoyingly trapped.

“Let me go already,” Sam says, scowl on his face. But Dean doesn’t want to, because it’s giving him the sickest feeling of pleasure at feeling so in control over his little brother. As he takes in Sam’s helpless form on the mattress, cheeks flushes and lips swollen, all he can think about is tying Sam down to the bedposts.

“But I love seeing you like this,” Dean confesses, leaning down to brush his nose over Sam’s collarbone.

“Like what?” Sam huffs, shivering despite himself as Dean brushes his lips over him.

“Trapped,” he says, pressing a kiss to Sam’s skin. “At my mercy.” Another kiss. “Where I can do anything to you, make you come over and over again, with you unable to move.” Kiss. “Writhing on the bed while I suck your cock, or lick your hole, or—” He cuts himself off at the last bit, but it doesn’t matter. He thinks Sam gets the hint.

Dean feels Sam take a sharp intake of breath, and he looks up to see his expression. Sam’s eyes are wide, unmistakably filled with a lust so strong is takes Dean’s breath away. 

“You’d like that too, huh, Sammy?” Dean asks softly.

Sam nods, his hands in fists, nails digging into his palm.

“Want me to tie you down someday, baby brother? Make you feel so good that you’ll _beg_ me to let you go?” 

Sam nods frantically, bucking up into Dean.

And so Dean lets go of his wrists, because just the thought of Sam letting him tie him up in the future is enough to drive him nuts. Dean moves his hands to clutch Sam’s waist instead, and Sam immediately grabs Dean’s face and pulls him down for a heated kiss. Dean rubs himself against Sam’s cock, groaning at the slick heat of Sam’s pre-come on him.

Dean breaks the kiss abruptly, moving down Sam’s body, running his fingertips over his skin as he goes lower and lower until he’s facing Sam’s throbbing erection. Sam gasps as Dean blows a rush of cold air on him, then Sam whimpers, moving his hips to try and find Dean’s touch.

“Dean…” he whines, hands clutching at the sheets. “Please…”

Dean carefully traces the head of Sam’s cock with a fingertip, moving deliberately slow as he presses into the slit. Sam bucks, panting, letting out a curse. Dean grins and leans forward, licking around Sam’s balls, unhurried and wet, occasionally moving his tongue to press just below where Sam’s shaft begins. He continues this teasing until Sam is screaming into his pillow, hands in Dean’s hair like a death grip, tugging Dean’s head furiously towards his twitching cock, which is dripping pre-come. 

“Dean I swear to god if you don’t suck my cock _right now_ —” 

He’s cut off as Dean suddenly takes Sam entirely into his mouth, pressing his tongue firmly against the vein on the underside as he moves his head down roughly. Sam cries out Dean’s name so loud, he’s pretty sure that everybody in the motel now knows his name. 

Dean grabs Sam’s hips to still them as they begin to thrust upwards, wanting Sam to come only when Dean allows. Sam whimpers, digging his hands tighter into Dean’s hair. Dean bobs his head up and down slowly, twirling his tongue roughly over the head each time he rises, making sure to only graze over the slit. Dean knows that Sam understands exactly what he’s doing, and Sam is going crazy because of it.

“ _More_ , Dean,” Sam pants. Dean ignores him, continuing his slow pace, enough to make Sam’s thighs tremble, but not enough for him to come. “Dean _please,_ I can’t take it! Go faster!”

Dean only moans as he continues to move over him, not increasing the pace at all, the vibrations of his voice causing Sam to struggle against Dean’s hands on his hips. Sam’s pre-come continues to leak, and Dean laps up every bit of it, ignoring the bitterness. 

Sam continues to writhe against the sheets, panting and whimpering, trying desperately to move Dean’s head up and down faster by his hair, though not succeeding in the slightest. Dean removes one of his hands from Sam’s hips and moves it slowly down Sam’s thigh, just enough to cause goose bumps to rise under his touch. 

He moves the hand to Sam’s erection, gripping the base of the shaft as he moves his head up to suck on the head tantalizingly, his tongue swirling around at an unbearably slow pace.

“I am _so_ going to torture you for this,” Sam gasps, and Dean tries not to grin around Sam’s cock. 

Dean moves down to stroke Sam’s balls as he continues to suck, and Sam cries out, practically screaming in frustration. Dean is going so slowly it’s making it impossible for Sam to come. Dean feels a little bad then, only because Sam wants it so much it might be making his little brother insane. So Dean moves his hand even lower.

The hand still on Sam’s hips moves underneath Sam slightly, tilting Sam’s hips upward. Sam whines, the angle giving him even greater pleasure as Dean tongues his slit. 

Dean’s hand moves farther down, and Sam gasps as Dean touches his finger lightly to Sam’s hole. 

“D-Dean…” he pants, and Dean can hear in his voice that he knows exactly what Dean is about to do. “Do it,” Sam whimpers. “Oh god please, do it.” 

And what else can Dean do but obey?

Dean releases Sam’s cock with a soft pop and takes his middle and index fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, getting them wet enough so he won’t hurt Sam too much. He knows this will be uncomfortable at first, but he plans to go slow.

Dean looks at Sam’s beautifully pink hole, on display and waiting for Dean. He licks his lips, groaning softly at being able to touch Sam in this way. He moves his index finger to Sam’s hole, applying a small amount of pressure but not yet going in.

“You sure, Sammy?” Dean asks softly.

“Dean!” Sam shouts in frustration, bucking into Dean’s grip, having more freedom now that only one of Dean’s hands is holding him down. “Fucking do it! I fucking _need_ it!”

Dean swallows thickly, his cock twitching at Sam’s insistence. But he doesn’t argue. He pushes in his finger the smallest bit, feeling the intense tightness of Sam’s body.

“Dean—” Sam chokes, hands gripping the sheets. 

“Relax, Sammy,” Dean says softly, licking a wet line up Sam’s cock to distract him. “It’ll feel good in a minute. I promise.”

Sam gasps as Dean moves in farther, whining and pressing his face into his pillow. Dean takes Sam back into his mouth, knowing the sensation of his tongue will be something to focus on while his finger opens him up. 

“So good,” Sam whispers. “So good.”

Dean pushes in another inch into Sam, his index finger now almost completely buried inside him. Sam groans, and Dean laps at the underside Sam’s dick, thinking he might be in pain and wanting to override it with pleasure.

But then Dean feels Sam tug at his hair, and he releases Sam’s cock to look up.

“Dean.” Sam is panting, his eyes wide as he looks down at Dean. “It feels so good,” he whispers, blinking slowly. “I want to feel more of you.”

Dean nods stupidly, struck into silence by the need in Sam’s voice. He pushes his finger all the way in then, and Sam throws his head back and gives a loud moan.

“Oh my fucking god,” he cries, back arching. “Dean, you feel so fucking good.”

He slowly withdraws his finger, almost all the way out, before thrusting it back in, faster than before. Sam cries out again, babbling a string of curses as he tries desperately to push himself deeper onto Dean.

This time, when Dean pulls out his finger, he re-enters with his middle finger, making sure to move slowly. 

But Sam is having none of it. He moves his hips down roughly, taking in Dean’s fingers with a moan. “Dee…” he pants, trembling. “Feels so goddamn good… so full… fuck Dean, I love it so much.”

“You like my fingers inside of you, Sammy?” Dean asks, voice rough. He begins to thrust his fingers into Sam.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam moans, meeting Dean’s movements with his hips. “So much. So fucking much. It feels like nothing else.”

“God, Sammy. You look so beautiful, your hole taking in my fingers like that. You’re so fucking tight,” Dean growls, moving his fingers in faster, Sam whimpering in appreciation. 

“I-is that… b-bad?” Sam gasps, looking down at Dean, eyes hooded with pleasure. “Being tight?”

“Fuck, no, Sammy,” Dean says, looking up at Sam. “It’s so fucking hot. Feeling you around my fingers turns me on so much...” Because now Dean can’t stop imagining his cock buried deep inside Sam, though he doesn’t say that.

Sam simply moans in response, and Dean moves his fingers harder into Sam while taking the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth and sucking roughly. Dean feels Sam clench around him, and knows that he’s close.

“You like it hard, Sammy?” Dean asks, kissing Sam’s cock. 

Sam nods, choking on a sob, whimpering and panting ceaselessly.

“Want it harder, baby brother? Want my fingers pounding into you?” 

Sam whines loudly, thrusting down harder over Dean’s fingers in lieu of an answer. Dean understands, though, and joins a third finger before slamming back into Sam. Sam screams louder than he ever had, making that come-worthy sound between a whimper and a scream that Dean loves so much. Dean groans at Sam’s reaction and doesn’t stop moving his fingers, tonguing Sam’s slit as his hand moves. Dean feels Sam clench harder around his fingers, and he knows Sam’s going to come at any second.

He stops licking up Sam’s cock, wanting Sam to come with just his fingers inside of him. He tells Sam so, and Sam moans, nodding. 

“Only your fingers, Dean,” Sam pants, toes curling into the bed sheets. “I don’t need anything else.”

Dean’s hand moves faster, and he drinks in the sight of Sam’s hole stretching over his fingers. It’s the hottest thing Dean as ever scene. 

“Come for me, baby,” Dean says, moving up to whisper in Sam’s ear, his body now hovering over Sam’s, his fingers continuing to slam in and out of Sam’s hole. He holds himself up over Sam’s body using his free hand, knees on either side of Sam’s hips. Sam whimpers and looks up to face Dean, and Dean kisses him roughly, hot and wet. “Come for me,” he says again as the kiss breaks. “For me, baby.”

Sam looks at Dean with unwavering eye contact as he comes, his eyes fluttering, though he never shuts them. He cries out in a high-pitched moan as his come shoots out in white lines across his abdomen, hips bucking, Dean’s hand continuing to move in and out of him as Sam rides this out. When the last tremble of orgasm rocks through him, his hole clenching over Dean’s fingers tightly, Dean stops, and Sam collapses onto the mattress, whimpering and panting heavily.

Dean removes his fingers slowly, and Sam trembles as they leave. They lay in silence for minutes, nothing but the sound of Sam’s slowing breaths. His eyes are closed now, a small smile on his lips.

“What’s the smile for?” Dean asks eventually, a grin of his own on his face.

Sam opens his eyes, and he smiles wider when he sees Dean’s expression. “I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, voice breathy.

Dean leans in and kisses him sweetly, moving to lay on his side, facing Sam. “I guess I just love you,” Dean says against his lips, and he feels Sam smile so wide he can barely even kiss him. 

“Shut up,” Sam says, looking away, and Dean chuckles as he sees Sam’s face grow red. Dean doesn’t need an answer to his words anyway; he knows exactly how Sam feels.

“Sammy,” Dean whispers, and Sam looks at him, expectant. “I really will come back safe. You know that, right?”

Sam nods and kisses Dean’s nose. “I know,” he says firmly. “I know you keep your promises.” Dean nods, relieved. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry,” Sam adds. 

Dean accepts this. He knows if the situation were reversed, he’d feel the same. Hell, he’d probably fight tooth and nail to be there with Sam himself. 

“Enough with the gooey stuff,” Dean says lightly, pecking him on the lips. “In case you forgot, I’m still hard as a rock,” he smirks.

Sam grins. “I can take care of that,” he says, and begins carving a path towards Dean’s erection with his tongue. 

Dean lays back and closes his eyes, trembling as Sam’s mouth wraps around him. And he thinks to himself, as white-hot pleasure begins to climb through his gut, that there is no other place he’d rather be than right there, with Sam.

__

So you can bet that Dean was in a bitchy mood when he hit the road with his dad, since he wasn’t in the one place he wanted to be. But he bit his tongue against his attitude, not daring to take it out on his father. He wasn’t an idiot, after all. 

That’s one of the things that he admires Sam for. Not that Sam is an idiot, or anything. But Sam isn’t afraid to stand up to their dad; he’ll say whatever is on his mind, no matter the consequence. Dean wishes he were able to speak up to his father. 

That first day on the job was the hardest.

Leaving Sam in the motel was more difficult than he thought it would be, and he thought it would be damn near impossible. He patted Sam on the shoulder as their dad moved around the room, gathering the last bits of their gear.

When their dad went outside to pack up the car, Dean crushed Sam to him, Sam wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist as they kissed heatedly, tongues tangling, breaths heavy.

“I promise,” Dean said.

“I know,” Sam replied, burying his head in Dean’s neck. Dean gripped him tighter, kissing the bruise that he had left on Sam’s neck the day before.

The car honked, and Dean reluctantly set Sam down, giving him one last kiss before he walked out the door, too weak to look back. He knew that if he had, and saw Sam’s hazel eyes looking at him with that puppy-dog look, he would have locked himself and Sam in that room and never left.

A boy could dream.

Dean and John reached the small town where the vamps were nesting just a few hours after they had left. They found an abandoned house to camp out in about a mile or so from the nest, setting up their supplies methodically as they had done many times before. Dean had been tagging along with John on hunts for a few years now, and it wouldn’t be long before he’d be hunting full time. But he refused to think about that just yet. Leaving Sam occasionally was already grating on him. He didn’t want to imagine a full time gig.

The second day found Dean waking up in the cold, bitter abandoned house to a raging erection. 

It probably wasn’t a good idea to have fallen asleep thinking about Sam and the way he had come around Dean’s fingers a couple days before. His dreams were filled with his panting baby brother sprawled on the sheets, begging for more. And all Dean could really think about after that was how Sam would look as he pushed his cock inside him, and that image drove him absolutely crazy. 

He barely had enough time to rub one out before his dad was yelling at him to get in the goddamn car. They only had a small window to scope out the nest and plan an attack for later that day. Dean grumbled as he walked to the impala, wishing more than anything that he was with Sam.

When Dean had counted only three bloodsuckers in the small shack in the woods where they were nesting, he wanted to scream. His dad had needed him there for _this?_

__

Hours later, Dean chops the head off of the last vampire, who wakes up just in time to see Dean’s machete flying toward its neck. The familiar rush of a kill floods through him, making him remember why he actually likes hunting at all. 

Dean feels good. They wiped out the bloodsuckers in a day and, if he’s lucky, he’ll be on his way back to Sam tonight. He glances at John, who is inspecting the belongings of the vamps scattered throughout the broken down house. 

Remember Winchesters and their luck?

“Looks like this isn’t over yet,” John huffs, pointing to a fridge crammed in the corner of the house. Inside are hundreds of containers filled with blood, more than enough for just three vamps. “There has to be more who aren’t at the house. This group of three is probably some sort of sub nest.”

Dean mentally hits his father in the face, though it isn’t his fault at all.

While John goes to scope out the surrounding area for the rest of the bloodsuckers, he sends Dean back to their camp. He complains to himself the entire way there, missing Sam more than he thought was possible. Dean is just feeling shitty, to put it simply. He’s covered in vampire blood, his back hurts from sleeping on the floor, and he’s grumpy, because Sam isn’t here.

He strips to his briefs when he gets inside, tossing his blood-covered shirt on the floor and pulling on a clean one. That feels a little better. He sits down against the far wall, a clear view of the door in case of anything, and lays his head back, closing his eyes. 

Sam fills his thoughts immediately. Dean might as well call him. He knows the sound of Sam’s voice will cheer him up, even though when the call comes to an end, he’ll probably just end up feeling worse.

He grabs his cell and dials the number of the burner Sam was left with. He listens to the rings, once, twice, a third time. 

Voicemail.

“What the hell,” Dean mutters, punching in the number again and putting it back to his ear. One ring. Another. A third one.

Voicemail.

“Pick up the damn phone, Sammy,” Dean grumbles, punching in the numbers again. He tries to ignore the shard of worry working its way into his chest. He listens to the rings again. Once. Twice. 

“Hello?” 

“God dammit, Sam,” Dean breathes, relief flooding through him. “Don’t do that. Pick up the phone the first time,” he says, unable to keep the anger from his voice. That scared the shit out of him.

“Sorry,” Sam says, sounding oddly breathless. “Didn’t hear the phone ring.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, listening to the heavy breaths come through the phone. “Everything okay, Sammy?” Dean asks, grip tightening on the cell. 

Sam clears his throat, Dean hearing him shift on what must be the bed. “I’m fine.” Sam’s voice cracks, and then a small moan fills Dean’s ear.

Dean freezes. There’s no way…

“Sam?”

“Uh. Yeah?” 

“Are you… are you jacking yourself off right now?” Dean asks, voice low.

A sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line, and Dean knows he’s right. Then he can’t stop the rush of images of Sam on the motel bed, legs spread, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other holding the phone to his ear.

“I just miss you s-so much, Dee,” Sa whimpers, the bed shifting again. Dean can hear how heavy Sam’s breathing is, and he knows he must have caught Sam right in the middle of this.

Dean thinks about hanging up the phone and leaving him to it. But he can’t stop listening to Sam’s breathing, and he can’t shove the image of Sam out of his brain. “Is your… are you stroking yourself?” Dean asks instead, moving his hand over briefs, his own cock hardening. 

“N-no… I…” Another moan emits from Sam, and Dean suppresses a groan. “I loved feeling your fingers inside me, Dean, I just…” He trails off, and Dean can practically hear Sam’s blush over the phone. 

Now a different image fills Dean’s mind, one of Sam with two fingers inside of himself, biting his lip as he holds the phone to his ear.

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean hisses. “You have your fingers inside of you right now?”

“Y-yeah,” Sam replies, light and breathy. 

“How many?” Dean asks, and he can hear the growl in his tone.

“I…” Sam says, sounding embarrassed as all hell.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Sam. I can go, if you want. I’ll let you—”

“No!” Sam gasps. “Don’t go, I…” A pause. “I want to hear your voice when I… when…”

Dean bites back another groan. “Want me to talk to you as you touch yourself, Sam?” Dean asks, his words heated, and he palms himself over his briefs. “Want me to help you come over the phone?”

“Yes,” Sam moans, Dean hearing the bed creak again. “One finger,” he gasps, finally answering Dean’s question. “J-just one, right now.”

Dean slips out his erection from his briefs, barely able to move fast enough. He and Sam are really about to do this, over the phone. And he can’t be more fucking excited.

“What were you thinking about?” Dean asks, stroking himself, up and down. “Before I called?”

“You, Dee,” Sam pants. “Always you.”

“What was I doing?” Dean licks the palm of his hand, making it wet, then groans as he wraps it back around his cock. 

“Your fingers… inside me,” Sam says in between gasps. “Thrusting in and out, like I’m doing now.” He gives another moan as if proving his point, and Dean imagines Sam’s single digit disappearing inside his beautiful hole, over and over. 

“Put another finger in, Sammy,” Dean instructs, pumping his hand faster, enjoying the intense feeling of warmth spreading throughout his gut. “Just like I did, remember?”

“Y-yeah,” Sam breathes. A moment goes by, then a loud whimper enters Dean’s ear. “Oh god,” Sam moans. 

“How does it feel?” Dean asks, sliding his thumb across the head of his cock slowly, enjoying the pleasure that feels like burning.

“So good,” Sam whispers, breathing heavily. “I wish it was _your_ fingers, Dean. I wish it was you inside me,” he moans.

And Dean takes that in a slightly different way, and again he imagines pushing his cock into Sam slowly as he holds him to his chest. 

As if Sam can hear his thoughts, he continues. “I want it to be _you_ ,” he says. “Your cock, Dean. Inside me. I’ve wanted it for so long… it’s all I can think about.”

“Fuck,” Dean hisses, thrusting up into his hand, squeezing his shaft slightly, needing to slow his movements so he doesn’t come yet. Sam’s confession makes his cock even harder, if it’s possible. “Me too, Sam. I want to fuck you. Wanted to fuck you for longer than you know,” he admits. And he has, only he doesn’t tell Sam his second thoughts, that maybe Sam is too young. At the moment, though, feeling so close to his climax, he doesn’t care enough to bring it up.

Sam moans, and Dean imagines him throwing his head back in that way that drives him insane. “I-I’m putting another finger in, Dean,” he says. Then Sam cries out, and Dean knows three fingers are buried deep.

“Feel good, baby brother?”

“So fucking good,” Sam whines. “I bet your cock would feel even better, though. Going in and out of me so hard,” he pants. 

Dean’s cock throbs in his hand, Sam’s words coursing through him. “Fuck, you drive me crazy, Sam,” Dean groans. “I love when you talk like that.”

“I’m so close, Dean. So fucking close, and your voice only makes it better,” Sam says, voice loud in his ear.

“Me too, Sammy,” Dean grunts, pumping himself harder. “Oh god, Sam, me too.”

A few seconds pass, with nothing except Sam’s moaning and whimpering in Dean’s ear, fueling Dean to stroke himself harder.

“Dean—!” Sam chokes, his breath hitching.

“Together, Sammy,” Dean whispers. “Let’s come together.”

“I—” and then Sam is crying out Dean’s name over the phone, the sound of him coming bringing Dean over the edge. Dean pumps himself as he climaxes, come pouring into his hand.

“Sammy,” Dean sighs, and strokes himself the last few times before his stills. 

Neither brother speaks for several moments. They listen to each other’s breathing as it becomes more and more quiet, both coming down from their high. Dean lies limp against the wall, head back, eyes closed, phone pressed firmly to his ear. He licks his lips as he hears Sam shift on the bed, and wishes he were able to hold Sam like he usually does after they come.

“Dee?” Sam says eventually, voice soft.

“Yeah,” Dean replies. “I’m here.”

“I can’t wait ‘till you come back,” Sam says. 

“Me either, kiddo.” And Dean means it. “I should probably go,” Dean says after a moment. “Dad went to scope out some territory and he should be back soon.”

“Scope territory?” Sam questions.

Dean sighs. “Yeah. Turns out there may be more bloodsuckers than dad thought. We only found a small group in a shack in the woods, so dad’s looking for the others.”

A pause. “When do you think you’ll be back?” Sam asks, and Dean hears the hint of worry in his tone.

“Probably in a day or two, like we planned. There shouldn’t be too many out here. The town is small, so there’s not much for them to hunt. That’s how dad found them in the first place.”

Another pause. “Sounds good,” Sam says, sounding relieved. “I’ll talk to you later, I guess?”

“Yeah, Sammy. Later.”

“Bye,” Sam whispers.

“Bye, Sam,” Dean says back.

Neither of them hangs up for another few minutes, both comfortable to know the other is on the line.

Then, “Love you,” Sam says.

The phone clicks from the other end, and Dean smiles.

__

The next day, late afternoon, and Dean has both hands on the wheel in a white-knuckle grip, going 20 miles above the speed limit on the highway. 150 miles behind him are a handful of headless vampires slowly burning to dust in a small patch of abandoned woods. 

Dean’s on his way back to Sam, and he couldn’t be more relieved and excited even if he tried.

“Don’t you think you should slow down there, Dean?” John’s voice asks from the back seat, half asleep and sounding irritable. “Where’s the fire?”

“It’s fine,” Dean says with a grin. “I guess we’ll just get there a little early.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five is in the works! I have some really great things planned... the next two or three chapters are going to be really interesting, and that's all I'm going to say on the matter. You'll just have to tune in next week to know what I mean!  
> Make sure to leave a comment (I LOVE to hear your thoughts!!!) and a kudos! Love you all. Until next time! xx


	5. Disagreements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wants more than Dean thinks he's ready for... Let's just say Sam doesn't take this too well, and is going to do everything he can to change Dean's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! Let me begin by apologizing for the way too long hiatus! I can blame it on a variety of things, but I'll spare you. I'm back now and ready to continue with my story, and I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter. I also hope to return to my regular weekly schedule!
> 
> Would you like a usual chapter sneak peak? Here we go: there are some diner shenanigans, back seat temptations, and of course, some motel room hotness ;)
> 
> Without further ado, Chapter 5 of the Good Days :)

Sam doesn’t actually remember how he came up with a plan so brilliant, but at the moment he doesn’t really care.

He sits next to Dean at some run-down diner in the middle of some butt-crack town, their Dad across from them. Sam is making sure to maintain his neutral expression as he picks at his food, answering his dad’s comments and questions as they are posed, pretending that everything is completely normal as the group of three eat their lunch.

In reality, Sam’s got a hand on Dean’s thigh under the table, traveling upwards toward his crotch at a snail’s pace. Dean is struggling to keep his face clean of any sign of what’s happening, and Sam is struggling to hold in his laughter at Dean’s near-failure to do so. 

Dean’s cock is hard as a rock at this point. All throughout their meal, Sam’s been teasing Dean somewhat menacingly. It began with an innocent request for a milkshake, and continued with Sam licking ice cream off his fingers while Dean watched, jaw hanging open. John, somewhat miraculously, was oblivious to this whole exchange, rattling off about the job they were on the road towards.

And of course, this is the part of Sam’s plan that Sam hadn’t really thought about. Their dad is only a foot away, unaware of the happenings going on under the sticky tabletop. And while all the warning bells in Sam’s head are ringing at a volume that’s impossible to ignore, that he should stop, that this is too risky, he reminds himself that Dean is asking for this. It’s honestly entirely Dean’s fault that he must resort to such methods. He’s left him no choice.

So he continues his journey toward Dean’s stiff erection, leaning his chin on his other hand while he watches Dean squirm out of the corner of his eye. Dean looks a little pissed, if Sam’s being completely honest. Okay, a _lot_ pissed. Sam’s torture has been going on for only about a day now, but he thinks Dean won’t be able to take much more of it.

Which is exactly what Sam wants.

He figures it all started around the time Dean got back from the trip to the vampire’s nest. 

_\--Two Days Ago--_

“Oh god,” Sam moaned, rutting desperately against Dean’s leg, which was pressed firmly against his crotch. Dean had him up against the wall of their motel room, arms trapped above him by one of Dean’s hands, the other sliding under his shirt. 

Dean groaned into Sam’s neck as he pressed wet kisses to his skin, moving further down with each heated press of his lips. “Missed this so much,” Dean rumbled, his nose brushing against Sam’s throat. “Missed _you_ , Sam. So fucking much.”

Sam only whimpered in response, his head thrown back against the door, hands struggling against Dean’s hold. 

“Did you miss me too, Sam?” Dean asked, pulling away from Sam’s neck to look at his face. He felt Dean’s leg press further in between his own, the perfect position for him to grind down harder onto Dean, the friction so good it was dizzying. 

Sam nodded and arched his back, biting his lip in an effort to control his heavy breathing. He had missed Dean so much it was almost painful. All he had been able to think about when Dean was gone was _Dean_ , the way Dean had held him before he left, the taste of Dean’s mouth on his tongue.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Dean growled.

“H-huh?” Sam gasped, eyes fluttering as Dean shifted his leg.

“Your lip,” Dean said, leaning in to bite Sam’s bottom lip, sucking roughly. “Every time you bite your lip, it drives me fucking nuts.”

Sam groaned into Dean’s mouth as their tongues met, arching his back again in an attempt to push their bodies closer. Dean tasted just as he always did, something so specifically _Dean_ that made Sam feel like he was home. He didn’t think he would ever get enough.

Dean’s hand pressed hotly against Sam’s stomach, moving steadily upward until it found Sam’s nipple and twisted. Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth as the pain turned into an agonizing pleasure, his cock twitching against Dean’s leg. He tried uselessly to free his hands, but he knew how much Dean liked to hold him down; he knew he wouldn’t be getting free unless Dean allowed it. 

“Dean,” Sam groaned, breaking the kiss the take in gasps of air. “Let’s go to the bed.” He found Dean’s neck and bit down, flickering his tongue over Dean’s skin and drawing out the sweetest of moans from his older brother. 

“No time, Sammy,” he said, his hand moving to Sam’s other nipple and taking it between his fingers tantalizingly. “Dad’ll be back in ten minutes. I’m making you come right here.”

“Y-you should of waited until l-later,” Sam stammered, whimpering as Dean applied pressure to his nipple. 

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who practically attacked me when I walked through the door,” Dean chuckled, and Sam blushed into his neck. 

“You were already h-hard,” Sam reminded him, his head falling back against the door once again as Dean nipped at his ear lobe.

“Details,” Dean muttered against his skin. “And anyway, if you expected me to wait another second after not being able to touch you after so long, you’re crazy.”

“It was only three d-days,” Sam said, although he knew just as well as Dean did that those three days were more than enough, and had felt years longer.

“Only?” Dean asked. “Bullshit.” Dean licked his neck. “Could have been three hours. Still too long.”

Sam shivered at Dean’s words. It still made Sam double take every time Dean said things like that; he didn’t think he would ever get tired of it.

“The moment dad leaves for longer than ten minutes,” Sam gasped, “I want you inside me.” 

Dean groaned into his neck, and his hand froze over Sam’s nipple. “Inside you,” Dean repeated into his ear, voice low.

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed, grinding against Dean’s leg. “Your cock, Dean, inside me. I don’t know why we haven’t done it yet. I want it so bad.”

Dean breathed heavily, hot air puffing against Sam’s skin. “I…” But Dean said no more, and Sam whined as he began to pull away from Sam.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, moving his now free hands to clutch Dean’s shirt, trying to pull him back. He looked up at Dean, not yet noticing the slightly troubled look on Dean’s face. “We still have a good few minutes before dad gets back.” He moved one of his hands to Dean’s crotch, grinning, and grabbed Dean’s erection through the denim of his pants.

“Sammy,” Dean groaned in pleasure, his forehead falling against Sam’s. “Sam, we should…” he trailed off, and Sam paused, hesitant.

“What is it?” Sam asked, hearing now the difference in Dean’s tone, as if he was unsure about something. “I can come in a few minutes, Dean. I’ve done so in less.” He laughed, but Dean didn’t return it. “Dean?”

Dean pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “I want you so bad, Sam. You know that, right?” Dean asked, hands moving under Sam’s shirt to hold his waist with warm, callused fingers.

Sam nodded against Dean’s forehead, beginning to grow worried. “You’re not hurt, are you, Dee?” Sam asked.

“Nah, Sammy. I’m good. You know me.” He moved a hand to weave into Sam’s hair, softly tugging at the strands, making goose bumps rise on Sam’s arms. He loved when Dean played with his hair.

“Then… why aren’t you making me come like you said you would?” Sam whispered, and Dean chuckled softly.

“I just… I love you, Sam. Always know that. Everything I do is because of that.”

Sam frowned. Something in Dean’s voice irked Sam, making him think Dean’s sweet words had something behind them. A reason.

He pushed Dean away. “Spit it out, Dean.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, confusion clear upon his features. “What?”

“You sound weird. Like you do when you don’t want to tell me something.”

“I don’t sound ‘weird,’” Dean scoffed, crossing his arms. 

“You sounded the same three days ago when you said you had to leave. You sounded the same when you first told me what dad really did every time he went on one of his trips. You sounded the same when—”

“Okay, Sam. Jesus.” Dean walked the few steps back to the door, crowding Sam so he his was up against the wood once again. “I just… I don’t think we should have sex yet.”

Silence.

Sam took a deep breath. “What… what do you mean,” he asked, voice flat.

Dean sighed, running his hands up and down Sam’s arms, as if soothing an angry child. Not that Sam was angry. Not yet, anyway.

That would be later.

“I think… we should wait, Sammy. Just a little while. You’re—”

“You don’t want to fuck me?” Sam asked, cursing himself inwardly as he heard his voice crack. Dean didn’t want him in the same way after all, after everything Dean had said, all the ways he had touched Sam, Dean didn’t want to—

“Sam, stop.” Dean’s voice cut through Sam’s thoughts, halting them. “Don’t you dare go thinking I don’t want to, Sammy. It’s all I think about. You have no idea.”

Sam shook his head, looking away from Dean’s piercing gaze. “You’re not making sense. You either do or you don’t.”

Dean’s hand grabbed Sam’s chin roughly between his fingers and turned it toward him, forcing Sam to look at him. “Sam,” Dean said, his voice a low growl, making Sam shiver. His still hard cock twitched in his pants. “I want to fuck you.” Dean looked into Sam’s eyes, the bright green the only thing Sam was able to focus on. “I want to feel you around me as I come. I want to hold you as you feel my cock inside you for the first time. I want it more than anything, Sammy.” Dean’s breathing was heavy, Sam right along with him. “Understand?” Dean asked, hand still holding Sam’s chin.

Sam nodded, swallowing heavily. God, he wanted Dean to fuck him, too. So hard. All night, into the mattress, hands on Sam’s hips as he pushed into him again and again and—

“Just not yet,” Dean finished, sounding pained to say those words but resolved nonetheless. 

Sam’s eyes narrowed, defiance bubbling up in his throat, but before he could argue again, Dean kissed him fiercely, his tongue shoving its way into Sam’s mouth. Sam could only moan as Dean grabbed his ass and pulled him roughly against him. Sam gave a little hop and wrapped his legs around Dean, bucking his hips against Dean’s stomach in search of friction.

All his thoughts melted away as Dean propped him up against the door and unbuttoned Sam’s pants, pulling out his cock, wasting no time in pumping up and down his length at a wicked pace. Sam came in seconds, his head thrown back, back arched, arms around Dean’s neck.

It wasn’t until later that Sam realized that this conversation was far from over. Sam wanted Dean, all of him, and he wasn’t going to give up. Whatever reasoning Dean had for wanting to wait, he would show Dean that it wasn’t worth it. Dean said he wanted to fuck Sam; Sam wanted the same thing. And he would make sure they both got what they wanted.

__

Which comes back to Sam’s plan: drive Dean so fucking crazy that he won’t be able to deny himself anymore. And so far, it seems to be working. 

“Quit it,” Dean whispers harshly, kicking Sam under the table. “Are you crazy?”

Sam only shrugs and presses down harder over Dean’s cock, not sparing him more than half a glance. He still catches the way Dean struggles to keep his eyes open, and definitely doesn’t miss the way Dean bucks into his hand.

Sam grins. “Do you _actually_ want me to stop?” Sam whispers back, and Dean growls softly.

“What are you two whispering about?” 

Sam snaps his head toward his father and forces an innocent expression. “Oh, uh… just trying to prove something to Dean,” he says. He doesn’t raise his hand from Dean’s crotch but rather keeps it firmly on Dean’s jeans. “Right, Dean?”

Dean throws a murderous glare at Sam before turning toward their father. He nods, teeth clenched, though otherwise his expression doesn’t give anything away.

John tilts his head and grunts. “Whatever. I’m going to use the can before we leave. Get the bill while I’m gone?” And with that he rises from the booth and heads toward the back of the diner.

The moment he’s out of sight, Dean grabs Sam’s hand and throws it off him. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” he asks, voice quiet enough for just Sam to hear. His eyes are blazing dangerously, more with lust than anger, but it’s clear what Dean is choosing to act on. “Are you fucking _insane_?

Sam bites his lip, looking Dean right in the eye.

“Stop it, Sam,” Dean growls, hands clutching the edge of the table. But Dean’s not fooling anyone; Sam knows how much he wants this. Dean never stops telling him so.

Sam leans in toward Dean, as far as he dares without it looking _too_ suspicious, and whispers in Dean’s ear. “Dee, I’m so horny right now.”

Dean takes in a sharp breath and shudders. “What the hell has gotten into you?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious, his voice shaky.

“Nothing,” Sam lies. “I just really need to touch you right now or I think I’ll lose it.”

Dean laughs harshly. “ _You’ll_ lose it?” he asks, scooting back as far away from Sam as he can get in the cramped seat. 

“We need to get away from dad,” Sam states, glancing around to make sure John isn’t coming back yet. “Let’s say we’re grabbing the car from the lot and I’ll suck you off around back.”

“Sam!” Dean’s eyes are wide, a deep flush climbing up his neck. “Stop it!”

Sam glances down at Dean’s noticeable hard-on then back at Dean’s face, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Dean clenches his fists, a deep frown on his face. “Are you _trying_ to get us caught? Dad was inches away from us and you pull stupid shit like that. What were you thinking?”

Sam scowled. “Your dick doesn’t seem to think it’s very stupid,” he huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. “And I’ll be glad to stop, Dean. As soon as you fuck me.”

“Wha-?” Dean’s eyes widen. “ _That’s_ what this is about? You driving me crazy since yesterday? Because I said we should wait? Are you fucking _kidding_ me?”

Sam turns to glare at his older brother. “I told you what I want,” he hisses. “You said it’s all you think about. So I just don’t get _why_ —”

“You boys ready to go?” Sam looks up at an ancient looking waitress standing over the table, her gray hair pulled back into what must be a headache-inducing ponytail. 

“Check, please,” Dean says, and the waitress hands him the rectangular slip of paper.

“Give a toot when you’re all set,” she chirps, and hobbles away from the table.

Sam struggles not to smile but fails. “Yeah, I’ll toot all right.”

Dean laughs. “Toot,” he repeats.

“Toot.”

“Tooooot,” Dean drawls.

Soon, the brothers are doubled over with laughter, cackling madly, gasping out “toot,” every time one of them thinks up another voice to say it in, which only makes them lose it even more.

“What the hell are you boys doing?” a voice asks moments later. Sam glances up to find his dad sliding back into the booth, eyebrows creased. Sam and Dean both struggle to explain through their gasps, but once Sam utters the word “toot,” they dissolve into laughter again.

John only frowns but doesn’t comment, glances at the bill, then pulls out some crumpled cash from his pocket and lays them on the table.

“If you hyenas are ready to go,” John grumbles, rising from his seat again and heading toward the door without a backwards glance at his sons.

“Think he’s embarrassed of us?” Sam asks Dean as he rises from the booth, struggling to catch his breath.

“No question,” Dean answers, following after Sam. But then he pauses before he gets up, grimacing.

“What are you—Oh. _Ohh._ ” 

Dean has both hands covering his crotch, glancing up at Sam with a helpless expression on his face.

Sam gives Dean a wicked grin. “Trouble?” he asks.

Dean glares back. “ _Sam.”_

After a chuckle, a sigh, and an eye roll, Sam tugs off his flannel shirt and tosses it to Dean, now wearing just a t-shirt. “Keep it,” he jokes, and heads toward the door, hearing Dean behind him. He looks over his shoulder to see Dean holding the shirt over the front of his pants, effectively hiding his boner. “You owe me,” Sam says.

“This is _your_ fault,” Dean reminds him.

“Actually, it’s yours,” Sam retorts. “You were asking for it.”

“It isn’t going to work,” Dean says, suddenly right behind Sam, voice soft in his ear. 

Sam tries to hide his shiver. “We’ll see,” he breathes back, and Dean chuckles.

__

“Back seat,” John says when they reach the Impala, pointing to the back. “The both of you. I need some peace and quiet for a few hours.”

“Dad, I can drive—”

“No, Dean. You should get some sleep. So should you, Sam. We’ll be on the road for a while longer.”

Sam raises his eyebrows suggestively at Dean as he opens the car door. Dean shakes his head firmly, his hands curled so tightly around the flannel that his knuckles are white. Sam only smiles wide.

Dean’s eyes narrow as he climbs in behind Sam. “Not fair,” he mutters.

“What’s not fair?” Sam whispers back, playing along.

“Dimples,” Dean replies.

Sam tilts his head. “Dimples? Huh?”

Then the most incredible thing happens. Dean _blushes_. Not like the flush he gets after he comes or is turned on, or the redness that covers his expression if gets angry enough. No, this is a classic _blush_ , right across Dean’s freckled cheeks that makes Sam’s eyes widen.

“Woah,” Sam breathes quietly, in awe of such a reaction from Dean, though a reaction to _what_ , Sam’s not really sure.

The car suddenly rumbles to life, and their dad steers them out of the parking lot and onto a side road that leads to the highway. The sudden force of the car shooting forward flings Sam back against the window, and Dean gets thrown across the seat, sprawling over Sam.

Sam immediately feels Dean’s warmth radiate over him, Dean’s cock hard against his leg. 

Sam’s caught so off guard, he’s speechless until Dean looks up at him, eyes green and wide and filled so very much with a _need_ that Sam doesn’t find at all difficult to decipher.

“Hi,” Sam whispers, his entire body heating up as he savors the weight of Dean on top of him.

“Hi,” Dean whispers back, swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. 

“Sorry, boys!” John laughs from the front, and that snaps them out of it. 

Dean sits up quickly and clears his throat, fumbling away from Sam until he’s practically pressed up against the other passenger door. His hands are lying casually in his lap, but Sam knows very well the reason for that.

They reach the highway and merge into traffic. Sam looks at his dad’s focused gaze on the road ahead, then back at Dean, who is failing utterly at hiding the fact that he’s watching Sam. Just to mess with him further, Sam arches his back, stretching his body towards the ceiling of the car. He looks at Dean in time to see Dean’s mouth drop open, eyes wide, his hands pressing further into his lap.

“Everything okay, Dean?” Sam asks, finishing up his stretch and sitting back against the seat, closer to Dean.

Dean tries to glare at Sam to no avail, and Sam knows then that this is only going to end one way: with him winning.

The radio clicks on, and Sam glances at his dad to see him fiddling with the stations until the blare of an electric guitar fills the car, loud enough that the bass thrums in Sam’s chest.

Sam scoots closer to Dean, happy for the music to act as a buffer to his voice. “Want to play I Spy?”

Dean narrows his eyes. “I don’t think I do.”

“Oh come on, Dean. I’ll go first.” Sam looks around the car, through the windows at the passing scenery, until looking back at Dean. “Ok, I spy with my little eye, something… green.” He tilts his head, smiling. “Now you guess, Dean.”

Dean frowns. “I know how to play,” he huffs. Dean glances out his window, then the windshield, then Sam’s window. “The trees?” Dean asks, looking back at Sam and raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Sam shakes his head. “Guess again.”

“Um… the bushes over there,” Dean says, pointing at the shrubs a few feet ahead of them.

“Nope,” Sam says, his grin growing. “One more guess.”

“Since when is there a limit to guessing in I Spy?” Dean asks, his mouth twitching.

“Since I said so,” Sam replies simply, leaning closer to Dean. “Now guess.”

Dean doesn’t look away from Sam, as if glued there by some unnamable force. Dean wets his lips, his eyes blinking heavily, incapable of tearing his eyes away from Sam’s mouth. “Uh…”

Sam bites his lip. “Give up?” he asks, moving his legs so that they knock against Dean’s. Sam feels Dean’s control ebbing, even with John in the front seat, and Sam knows it won’t be long before Dean gives up the next time they’re alone.

“No. I have one more guess,” Dean says, voice thick. One of his hands moves from his lap so that it rests between their bodies on the seat. “Is it… grass?”

Sam laughs quietly. “Dean, there’s no grass for miles.”

“Oh.”

“It was your eyes.”

“Huh?”

“Dean, snap out of it,” Sam chuckles, patting Dean’s cheek with a soft smack. “The something green. It was your eyes.”

Dean’s bright green eyes widen.

Sam shrugs. “What? They’re pretty,” he whispers. Then Sam blushes, because what the hell is he even saying right now? “Anyway,” he says, looking away. “Your turn.”

“I spy with my little eye, something hazel.” Sam looks back at Dean, who’s grinning. “What?” Dean whispers, white teeth flashing. “They’re pretty.”

Sam whacks Dean on the arm, face burning. He hates when Dean turns the tables. This was supposed to be _his_ seduction, goddammit. Dean only laughs, whacking Sam right back.

“My turn,” Sam says, then deliberately leans over Dean to look out the window. He hears Dean’s intake of breath at their close proximity. As he searches for an object in the dry weather outside, Sam gets an idea. He figures the music is loud enough to risk it. He tilts his head so his mouth is by Dean’s ear. “Are you still hard?” he asks softly.

Dean growls, his body tensing. “Sam…”

“I bet your cock is so hot and just _dripping_ with pre-come,” Sam whispers, nudging his nose against Dean’s temple. “I want to taste it.”

Dean groans softly, his hands digging into the car seat. “Sam, you need to stop.”

Sam shakes his head. “Do you know what I’m thinking about right now?” Sam asks quietly, right into Dean’s ear. He waits for Dean’s response, but Dean is silent, the only sounds emitting from his mouth a ragged breathing. “I’m imagining you bending me over, right here in the back seat, and _fucking me_ until I can’t walk.”

Dean grunts, shaking his head. “S-Sam… I can’t…”

“And I’ll be begging you to go harder, faster, so that I can feel you even deeper inside me. I’d be moaning your name, Dean, over and over until we came. It would feel _so_ good, for both of us.”

“Sammy…” Dean whispers, his voice rough and strained. 

“Don’t you want that, Dean?” Sam asks innocently, allowing an ounce of hurt to enter his voice. “It would kill me if you didn’t,” he says honestly. “It would kill me.”

“I want it,” Dean says firmly, so quietly it’s like a breath. “I want you.”

Sam nods, sitting back in his seat suddenly. He’s satisfied. “I spy with my little eye, something blue,” he says loudly, his tone completely void of the filthy words he spoke just seconds earlier. 

This is over. Sam can see it on Dean’s face, the way his cheeks are flushed with arousal, his hands clutching the seat for dear life, his throat swallowing in an effort to get rid of the dryness of his mouth. Dean is going to break.

“Sky,” Dean croaks.

“Yeah! First guess! Nice!” He laughs, nudging Dean’s bicep. “Your turn,” Sam says with a wide grin.

__

Sam’s foot taps against the carpet of their latest motel room, a soft thud emitting every time his bare toes hit the floor. He stands restlessly against the far wall, arms crossed, watching with narrowed eyes as John gives the same old talk to Dean every time he leaves for a hunt. Sam overhears the usual bits: check the salt lines, lock the doors, watch after Sam. Sam only just refrains from audibly showing his annoyance at how long their dad is taking to walk out the door. As it is, he’s rolling his eyes every other minute. 

Sam is ecstatic that this is finally going to happen. All Sam can think about is how his first time with Dean is going to be, how much he wants this, how long he’s had to wait for it. It was all Sam had been able to think about for years now. Ever since realizing his feelings for Dean, the thoughts of them together had never left Sam’s mind. Throughout the agonizing moments when he would have to witness Dean flirt with other people; every time Dean would make a joke about being with others, Sam had not stopped. Sam had never been able to refrain from thinking about Dean as more than just a brother. There had never been anyone else. It had always been his older brother, and Sam knew it always going to be. 

Sam pauses his attempt to throw his dad out of the room by sheer will power and instead focuses his attention on Dean. By the looks of it, Dean is just as restless as he is. He fidgets on his perch on the bed, his thumbs twiddling as he looks up at John with a glazed look. Sam hopes Dean is thinking about the same thing he is, and that thought only makes a wave of excitement flood through him. Part of it is nerves, sure. This is his first time, after all. But Sam knows without a doubt that being with Dean is really nothing to be scared about. Dean would never hurt him.

“Be good,” Sam hears. John looks at him expectantly from across the room. “Ok, Sam?”

“I’m always good,” Sam says with a scowl, and Dean goes into a suspicious coughing fit from beside their dad, his hands covering his obvious grin. 

“Yeah, and I’m a demon,” Dean laughs.

Before Sam can reply to that, John cuts in. “Bye, boys. Dean, don’t torture your brother. The same goes for you too, Sam. I’ll see you both in a couple days.” And then, as Sam watches, John leaves the motel room with a click of the door. 

He watches as Dean goes to lock the door, first the chain, then the bolt. When Dean turns around, their eyes lock, and they both stand still, suddenly frozen. Sam’s breathing picks up, and he feels his heart beating hard in his chest. He sees Dean’s chest rising and falling rapidly from where he stands. After a moment, the familiar roar of the impala comes from outside, and Sam listens as it becomes fainter and fainter until the noise dies completely.

For a moment, neither of them moves. But then, Sam takes a step forward, prompting Dean to walk forward as well until they meet halfway. Sam looks up at Dean’s face, taking in the details of his expression. Dean’s eyes are watching Sam carefully, almost hesitantly, and his mouth his slightly parted, allowing for Sam to hear the heaviness of his breathing. 

Sam reaches up with both arms and wraps them around Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Dean’s lips. His sighs as he feels the familiar warmth of Dean’s mouth on his, the softness of his lips as they scrape across his own. 

“Sam…” Dean sighs, his hands moving to clutch at Sam’s hips. Sam shivers has Dean’s fingers tighten around his skin through his shirt. “We shouldn’t—”

“I want this, Dean,” Sam interrupts. “So do you.” There is a pause, and Dean doesn’t deny Sam’s words. Sam kisses Dean again, more deeply, his tongue dipping into Dean’s mouth so that he can taste the soft flavors of soda left on Dean’s tongue. Dean groans, his hands growing tighter around Sam’s hips, pulling him closer.

Their kiss grows more heated, teeth clashing and tongues tangling as the brothers struggle to take in as much as they can from the other. Sam feels the satisfying sensation of warmth in his gut as Dean’s hands travel to his ass, and in no time at all, Sam’s cock is hard.

Sam curls his fingers into the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck and tugs gently, earning him another forceful groan from Dean’s mouth that Sam swallows. He takes a step back, taking Dean with him, walking backwards blindly until the backs of his knees hit one of the beds. Sam fumbles onto the mattress without breaking their dizzying kiss, and he moans as Dean’s fingers dig firmer into his ass, practically carrying Sam as he moves onto the bed with him.

Eventually, the kiss breaks, only so they both can catch their breaths. Dean’s hands roam Sam’s body, pushing him back onto to the bed until his head hits the pillow. His warm hands slide under Sam’s shirt, and Sam raises his head to allow Dean to tug the fabric off of him, leaving his chest bare. Without wasting a moment, Dean leans down and takes one of Sam’s nipples into his mouth, sucking roughly on the hardening nub.

Sam cries out, his hands clutching at the sheets as Dean’s tongue swirls wetly over him, his teeth grazing just enough to add a white-hot pleasure that shoots through Sam’s body. 

“Oh god,” Sam moans, arching his back as Dean releases his nipple and leaves a final kiss before moving to the other, flickering his tongue over the erect skin before taking it into his mouth and biting down softly. “Dean,” Sam gasps, sliding one of his hands into Dean’s hair. “M-more,” he begs, tugging on Dean’s hair until he looks up at him. “More,” Sam says again, voice rough.

Dean rises to his knees and takes off his shirt, throwing it aside. Sam watches as Dean looks down at him. Dean’s mouth is swollen in the sexiest of ways, his hair sticking up on end from Sam’s fingers. 

“Dean,” Sam says, and reaches his arms out. Without a word, Dean leans down and kisses Sam hard, his tongue exploring every part of him until Sam feels as if he’ll pass out from the pleasure. 

Sam moves his hands down Dean’s back, the smooth skin and hard muscle hot under his fingers. When he reaches Dean’s ass, he squeezes, and Dean growls into his mouth, his crotch moving to rub into Sam’s erection. Sam gasps, bucking upwards to meet Dean. He whines into Dean’s mouth, begging for more without saying a word. Dean moves his hips again, and his hard cock grinds perfectly against Sam’s own stiff member. 

Heat tumbles through Sam’s body, driving him absolutely insane. The pressure is agonizing, and the layers of clothing between their cocks are suddenly too much for him. He moves his hands from Dean’s ass to the buckle of Dean’s jeans, and struggles to unbutton the pants.

Dean pulls away from their kiss and moves to Sam’s neck. “Sammy,” he groans, and leaves a wet kiss below Sam’s ear. 

“Dean,” Sam moans in reply, finally getting Dean’s jeans open. He tries to tug them down, boxers and all, but suddenly Dean’s hands are over his own, stopping his movements.

“Sam, stop.”

Sam does. In fact, his whole body stills underneath Dean. His breaths are heavy and loud, his erection still throbbing in his jeans. “What is it?” Sam asks. 

Dean rises until he’s looking down at Sam, sitting back on his heals. “We can’t,” he says, voice pained. He doesn’t look Sam in the eye as he says this.

Sam sits up until his back leans against the headboard of the bed. “Can’t what,” Sam says flatly. “Say it.” Anger begins to boil beneath Sam’s skin. He can do nothing to prevent it; this is plain stupid, what Dean is doing, and he won’t even give him a fucking reason.

“We can’t have sex right now,” Dean says, finally looking at Sam. “Not yet, Sammy. But—”

“Why?” Sam cuts in, voice hard. The tone of his words stops Dean in his tracks, and he sees Dean wince. Sam can’t find himself to care at the moment, though. Whatever reason Dean has, Sam hopes it’s good. For Dean’s sake.

There are several moments of silence before Dean responds. “You’re only 14, Sam. You’re too young for us to go all the way. We should wait until…” he trails off.

Sam shakes his head in disbelief. “Too young?” he questions, moving until there is more space between Dean and himself. Sam is growing livid, the anger within him rising to an almost uncontrollable level. “Are you kidding? Weren’t you practically my age when you first had sex?”

Dean looks away again. “That’s not the point,” he says.

“Then what the hell is, Dean?” Sam asks, voice rising. “I’m _ready_ to have sex. I _want _you, Dean. I _want_ to have sex with you, so why the hell shouldn’t we?”__

__Dean shakes his head. “I’m 18, Sam. You’re just too young to be—”_ _

__Now Sam laughs, harsh and vicious. “Oh, you have got to be fucking _kidding me_ right now,” Sam spits. He pushes himself off the bed, walking to the end of the frame to put more space between himself and Dean. He turns around to face his older brother, his whole body radiating anger. “This is great. Truly. Let’s start worrying about the fact that I’m underage, but the whole part about how we are goddamn _brothers_ doesn’t matter one bit, right?” Sam shakes his head again in disbelief. “Way to have morals, Dean. Way to go.”_ _

__“Sam—”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m 14, Dean. So fucking what? I can be 14 and you can suck my dick, and jerk me off, and I can do the same to you, but sex is the line we won’t cross?” Sam whirls away from Dean, pacing back and forth across the carpet. “You’re unbelievable.”_ _

__“Don’t be mad, Sam,” Dean says from the bed, his back slumped, eyes piercing into Sam in an attempt to make eye contact. “There’s still so much we can do. You know that. Sex isn’t the only way for us to feel good.”_ _

__Sam shakes his head again, unable to reply. This is ridiculous. Sam is angry. He is _hurt_. This is rejection, no matter what way Dean puts it, and it cuts Sam like a knife in his chest._ _

__And suddenly, he wants nothing more than to make sure Dean understands that, even if it makes Dean hurt just as much as he does._ _

__“Fine,” Sam says, stopping his pacing. He stands at the foot of the bed, and he finally looks up to meet Dean’s gaze._ _

__“Fine?” Dean asks, a small frown on his face._ _

__“Fine, Dean. We won’t have sex yet. Because I’m 14, and I’m too young. Right?”_ _

__Dean nods slowly. “Right,” he says hesitantly._ _

__“No sex,” Sam says again._ _

__Dean nods, seeming to exhale and relief._ _

__Then Sam strikes. “And no anything else, either.”_ _

__Sam watches his words sink into Dean. At first, Dean’s face is blank, but as realization strikes, Dean’s eyes widen. “Wait, what are you—”_ _

__“I’m _saying,_ no sex. And no anything else, Dean. No kissing. No Blowjobs. No jerking each other off. No more putting your fingers in my asshole. Nothing. You can’t touch me anymore, and I’m not going to touch you.”_ _

__Dean is silent for several seconds. “You don’t mean that.”_ _

__Sam shakes his head. “It only makes sense, right? Cold turkey until I’m _old enough_ to handle it,” Sam says, his tone mocking. He watches in satisfaction as Dean’s expression turns angry._ _

__“This is ridiculous,” Dean says._ _

__Sam smiles coldly. “My thoughts exactly.”_ _

__Dean shakes his head and rises from the bed, approaching Sam. “You think it’s just as simple as that, huh? You don’t get what you want so you cut me off completely?”_ _

__Sam takes an involuntary step back as Dean steps closer. “Yeah, pretty much,” he says._ _

__“It won’t be,” Dean says, stopping a foot away from Sam. “It won’t be _simple._ You won’t be able to get along without me either, Sammy. I see how I affect you. You’ll be just as miserable as I am.”_ _

__This makes Sam even more pissed. “I got along fine before you even had the balls to make a move!” Sam shouts, fists clenching. “I’d touch myself every night, sometimes when you were only feet away, fast asleep. Maybe I’ll just go back to that! Waiting until you’re out of the room to shove my own fingers inside me, imagining it’s your cock.” Sam smiles as Dean visibly shivers across from him, eyelids fluttering at Sam’s words. “I think I’ll be just fine, Dean!”_ _

__Dean swallow thickly, clearly trying to get his arousal under control before answering. “You’re wrong,” Dean rasps. “You don’t need to punish me for not fucking you, Sam. We could do so much, have been, and it felt great, hasn’t it?” Sam doesn’t answer this yet again. “It’s not like it will never happen!” Dean points out. “Just not now! You’re young! We have years!”_ _

__Sam’s eyes widen. “Years?” He screeches, and Dean winces._ _

__“Maybe not years…” Dean allows, running a stressed hand through his hair. “Just—will you quit acting like a kid?!”_ _

__“Why should I?!” Sam yells. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? That I’m a kid? That’s why you won’t fuck me! Because I’m just a little kid! I guess I’m just acting my age, huh?”_ _

__“Sam!” Dean shouts, exasperated._ _

__“Dean!” Sam yells right back, his anger as prominent as ever._ _

__Dean shakes his head, rubbing his hands across his face. “Don’t do this,” he begs._ _

__“It’s done,” Sam says, turning away from Dean and scooping up his crumpled t-shirt from the floor. He catches a glimpse of his flannel that he had lent Dean just hours before, when he had thought he and Dean would be going all the way at this very moment. Sam shakes his head, struggling against the lump rising in his throat. No way is he going to admit how hurt he is over this. Not to Dean._ _

__“Sammy, please.”_ _

__Sam tugs on his shirt and looks back at Dean. His green eyes are pleading, his bare chest just as alluring as it always has been. Seeing Dean like this almost makes him take back his words right then and there, and he has to hold himself back from running up to his older brother and kissing every inch of him._ _

__Sam tears his eyes away before that could happen. “No,” he says in finality. “No more touching. Nothing. You’re cut off.”_ _

__He walks away from Dean and goes to the bathroom. His dick is still half hard, and there’s no way he’s sitting in the same motel room as Dean without rubbing one out before then._ _

__Sam doesn’t really know if he’ll be able to pull this off. He needs to touch and be touched by Dean just as much he needs to breathe. But he knows something else, just as well as his older brother does: Dean is going to lose it not being able to be with Sam._ _

__Dean is so, totally screwed._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Make sure to leave a comment (those are my FAVORITE!!) and a kudos! And sorry for the cliffhanger... hehehe I guess I'm just evil like that ;) And I guess you're just going to have to tune in next week to see if the boys figure out their differences, huh?


	6. Reasons and Excuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not going very well for Dean ever since Sam forbade him from all things sexual. The one thing to break the dry spell is simple: have sex. But for some reason, this isn't simple enough for Dean. He doesn't want to give in, but Sam is making it unbearable. What will Dean choose to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to The Good Days! This chapter took longer than usual. In fact, it was going to be longer, but I decided to break up my plans into two chapters so I won't be worried about word count. And even better, I'm thinking about writing the next chapter TWICE, so you guys can get it in both boys' perspectives. I bet you can figure out why... *evil laughter* Let me know in the comments if you like that idea?
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy chapter six. I think you'll like this one. Sneak peak? Well, you can expect lots of angst and sexual frustration. But that's always exciting, isn't it? ;)

It’s been a week.

Dean is miserable.

No, miserable isn’t the right word. Miserable isn’t enough to describe the state that Dean is in.

He aches. His whole self physically hurts, so strongly that it demands his entire attention every minute of every day. Each hour passes agonizingly, so slowly that it’s as if the universe is making Dean live every unbearable moment stretched out to the longest it can go. It’s been like this the entire week, and Dean can hardly take it anymore. Not that he could take it in the first place.

A whole week, without the slightest touch of Sam. All because of his refusal to have sex right now, a refusal that seems more and more stupid with each passing day.

Dean wonders how he hasn’t lost his mind.

He feels as if this should be easier. After all, he’s survived years of being able to push down his feelings for Sam, having made do with the all too frequent masturbation sessions with nothing but his little brother on his mind. But it’s not enough now, not anymore. Now that Dean has been with Sam, touched him, tasted him, _breathed_ him, nothing has been the same. 

Dean has begun to think that it’s impossible, living without Sam. Living without being able to hold him as they fall asleep, unable to taste Sam on his tongue when they kiss, unable to feel the warmth of Sam’s body as it lays against his. And, of course, the potent lack of Sam’s mouth on his body, Sam’s hands on his skin.

It’s simply unbearable. Impossible. Miserable. How he _aches_.

Not to mention, Dean’s had a seemingly perpetual boner since Sam cut him off. No amount of jacking off seems to get rid of it for more than a few hours. Dean could have been spent and sweating from coming by his own hand three times in a row, then see Sam’s shirt hike up a bit to reveal a inch of skin, and that’s it. That’s all it really takes. And this type of instance actually happened, multiple times. Sam simply has an effect on Dean that Dean both loves and hates. Loves, because he can’t get enough of it. But hates, because he _can’t get enough_ , and now that Sam refuses to be with Dean until he gets what he wants, Dean is stuck with a constant yearning. Which hardly helps when Sam looks fuckable every minute of every day. 

Sometimes, Dean swears Sam is doing it on purpose. The way Sam’ll bend over to pick up a stray piece of clothing off the floor. How he always seems to step out of the shower when Dean is near.

And, of course, what happened just the other day. 

Dean had just come back to the motel room after taking a walk around the block, having needed some well-deserved space from Sam after watching him drink deeply from a water bottle. Of all things to give a guy a boner… Honestly, the stupidest shit can get Dean going, and he hates himself for it.

He had returned to the motel room, his mind stiff churning with the all the different courses of action he could possibly take. He could a), try and convince Sam to drop this whole thing and wait to have sex with Dean until an appropriate age like any normal kid Sam’s age (not that any normal kid Sam’s age is fooling aroung with their brother, but still), or b), avoid Sam as much as possible to try and make this whole situation slightly more bearable. Or even c), fuck it, and fuck Sam. It’s not like every single part of Dean isn’t begging for it. 

Dean walked into the room, and saw Sam, splayed out across the couch with his shirt off and legs spread. One hand was fondling one of his own nipples while the other was stroking his dick, which was erect and laying on his stomach, out of his unzipped jeans. Dean had stopped cold, his eyes completely glued on Sam while his boner that had been flagging came back to full attention. His mouth went totally dry, and he must have made some sort of sound, an unstoppable reaction to what he was seeing that got Sam’s attention. Sam’s gaze flew to Dean, and his eyes widened as he realized Dean was standing right there, just watching him.

 _But Sam didn’t stop._ He just kept stroking up and down his shaft as he looked Dean straight in the eye, allowing moans to fill the air between them as he twisted his nipples and jacked himself off.

Dean wanted to jump Sam right then and there. Nothing was stopping him. Sam was clearly inviting him to do so, blatantly and obviously. Dean wanted it, wants it, more than anything. Wants it like air.

So why doesn’t he just do it? Why doesn’t he end this all right now and give in to the one thing they both so clearly want? Dean doesn’t exactly know anymore. He’d say it’s guilt, that he can at least wait until Sam is of legal age if he can’t stop being with his own brother. But that’s not entirely true. Dean doesn’t feel guilty for doing all the things he’s been doing. He loves Sam, with his entire being. He wouldn’t take back the past month with Sam if his life depended on it.

Maybe it’s just a matter of morals. Sam is 14, and any way you look at it, it’s pretty young to be having sex. Then again, Dean _was_ about 14 when he first had sex… And furthermore, all sense of morals sort of went out the window when Dean first started jacking off to the image of his little brother.

After a week, Dean’s thought about it all, and he’s come to the realization that he doesn’t really _have_ a good enough reason anymore for keeping this up. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been a week, and the lack of Sam is making his brain hazy. But Dean hardly cares anymore. If he doesn’t get his fill of Sam soon, Dean doesn’t know what will happen. Maybe spontaneous combustion.

So yes, Dean knows exactly how to end this. And he wants to end it. Ending it will only bring about something that Dean wants, so why the hell not?

Because Dean is a fucking idiot, and he knows it too. As he tore his gaze away from Sam’s dick and walked out of the room, all Dean was thinking was: “I’m a fucking idiot.” 

No, Dean doesn’t have any more reasons to use as an excuse for his refusal. Now, it’s simply a mix of clinging to his half-assed reasons of age, and plain stubbornness. The whole fact that Sam cut him off is making Dean frustrated, and what better way than to take out that frustration by withholding the one thing Sam really wants? 

Even though Dean got himself into this position in the first place.

Ah, what a beautiful fuckfest. 

It’s stupid. Dean knows it is. But they’re brothers, after all. And they have stupid fights, like any other pair of siblings. Even if a fight over sex is highly unusual for siblings to have.

After a week, Dean brain hurts, too. 

It also doesn’t help that Sam has been totally closed off from Dean, more than just physically. He’s always grumpy when Dean is around, seemingly always angry or frustrated at him. Dean hates that more than not being able to touch. He misses his little brother, misses their easy conversations and rough housing, their inside jokes and shared glances. But Sam is pissed at Dean, and he’s not making an effort to hide it. Sam has always been frustratingly good at holding a grudge, and in this case that hasn’t changed a bit. Dean detests that more than anything.

Dean currently stares out the window of the impala at the blur of scenery rushing past, humming along to some rock song or another that blares from the radio. He welcomes the screech of electric guitar and deep thrum of the bass, letting it drown out his thoughts of Sam.

Suddenly, the radio quiets, and Dean glances over at John to see him lowering the volume until the music cuts of completely. 

“I need to talk to you about the next job,” John says, glancing into the back seat. “Wake up your brother, will you? This is important.”

Dean swallows heavily. Sam is currently sleeping in the back seat, his soft breathing suddenly the loudest thing in the car. Dean shifts in his seat so he’s facing Sam’s sleeping form. He’s lying across the bench, his arms stretching above him so one is underneath his head, the other laying casually over his eyes. His torso is beautifully stretched out, chest rising and falling evenly, his pink lips slightly parted to reveal a hint of his teeth. Dean imagines running his tongue along them, the way he had just a week ago. He shivers and looks away from Sam’s lips, silently willing himself to _please_ not get a hard on while he’s sitting right next to his dad. 

“Sam,” he says. “Wake up.”

Sam’s eyelids don’t even flutter.

“Just nudge him awake, Dean. He’s not a pretty princess,” John scoffs. 

Dean rolls his eyes at his father, but how can he just nudge Sam? He hasn’t even brushed against him in a week, and now he’s just supposed to _nudge?_

Dean takes a deep breath. He can do this. “Sam,” he says louder, and reaches over to poke Sam in the side. “Sammy, wake up.” The moment his finger touches Sam’s body, Sam bolts up, wide awake. 

“What?” he snaps, eyes wide. “What are you doing?” He looks at Dean suspiciously, rubbing his side where Dean’s finger had prodded him.

“Woah, calm down, Sam.” Dean’s heartbeat is going a mile a minute. His hand feels like a wave of electricity just shot through it. The first touch of Sam in a week, barely a poke, and Dean’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t look away from Sam right now, he’ll lose it. “Dad needs to talk to us,” he says simply, and turns back around in his seat. 

“Nobody said you could touch me,” Sam mumbles, his face contorting into a frown. He’s still rubbing his side as if burned. 

“What was that?” John asks, looking in the rearview mirror at Sam.

“Nothing,” Sam and Dean say together, which causes Sam’s frown to deepen. 

John shakes his head. “Anyway, boys, listen up for a minute.” Dean immediately snaps to attention at the tone of his dad’s voice, instantly recognizing the seriousness of what he’s about to tell them. Dean sees Sam’s back straighten in his peripheral view; Sam also knows that this must be important. But John only chuckles. “Easy, boys. It’s not what you think.” 

Neither brother relaxes.

John sighs. “This next job is going to take a bit longer, that’s all. There hasn’t been a job like this in a while, so I’m warning you now.”

“How long?” Dean asks, glancing back at Sam. But then he remembers: it’s not like it’ll matter, anyway.

“Might be as long as a month,” John says, grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, boys, but it’s unavoidable.”

“It’s fine,” Dean says, already thinking desperately about a way to distract himself for an entire month from Sam’s presence in a motel room. All alone. Just the two of them.

Shit.

“I rented a house for the time I’ll be gone, so you boys will be more comfortable.”

Dean looks at his dad. “Huh?”

John’s lips tilt upwards at the corners. “A house, Dean. It’s nothing special, just a couple bedrooms, small living room and an even tinier kitchen. From what the landlady said on the phone, it’s probably more rundown than you’re expecting. But it’s better than a motel.”

Dean nods dumbly.

“My own room for a month?” Sam asks hopefully from the back seat.

John laughs. “Yup,” he confirms.

“Sweet,” Sam whispers in awe. Dean winces. “Do you know the area? Is there an arcade or something nearby so I can—?”

“No arcades,” John interrupts Sam. “But there’s a high school.”

A pause.

“School?” Sam asks, eyes widening. “You put me in school?”

“Both of you,” John says, glancing at Dean. “Until I get back.”

Dean’s shoulders grow rigid, the beginnings of hot anger roiling in his chest.

“New kid again,” Dean hears Sam grumble from the back, and imagines what Sam’s pout must look like. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Dean asks, shaking Sam out of his head. His jaw clenches, and he turns to glare at his dad. “You said I can get my GED, now that I’m 18—”

“You’d rather stay at the house?” John asks knowingly. “You can’t come on this job, you can’t leave Sammy alone for that long, so it’s school for you. _Both_ of you,” he says pointedly, his tone final. Dean couldn’t argue now without really pissing off John. And anyway, the thought of being separated from Sam eight hours a day, almost every day for a month, made Dean slightly nauseous. He wouldn’t let Sam go alone. Not really. 

He’d endure a month of high school for Sam, even if his little brother was practically blocking him out.

“No wonder you told us about the house first,” Dean mutters, crossing his arms.

“Exactly,” John replies. “We’ll be there in another day’s drive. Motel for the night and we’ll get there tomorrow.”

Dean just nods, grimace unwavering, and looks back out the window. He listens to the rhythmic tapping of Sam’s foot on the carpeted floor of the car. He can practically feel Sam’s excitement from where he sits. The kid has always loved school, even if he hated the people there. It makes Dean feel better to know that at least Sammy will be happy about the arrangement. It almost makes him smile, until he remembers he’s going to be trapped in a house with the one person he can’t have.

It’s going to be a difficult month.

__

“I’ll be right back,” John says as he exits the car. “I’ll go check us in. You park the car.”

The Oak Inn stands solemnly at the side of the highway, the vacant sign flickering depressingly in a dull red. Darkness is a blanket around them, but the night is filled with stars. If Sam wasn’t mad at him, Dean might have talked him into going stargazing. 

Dean slides behind the wheel and closes the driver’s door, putting the car into drive. He scans the lot for a space, hands tapping on the wheel.

“I won’t tell dad if you ditch school,” Sam says from the backseat.

Dean tenses, his breath speeding up. This was the first time in a week that Sam has started a conversation with him. “What?”

“I know you don’t want to go. I’ll cover for you, if you want to stay at the house instead.” 

Dean glances in the rearview mirror to see Sam looking out the window, his eyes contemplating, cloudy with intense thought. But he doesn’t look angry. “Why?” Dean says quietly. “Aren’t you pissed at me?”

Sam frowns, and Dean curses silently. The anger is back on Sam’s face in an instant, and Dean wishes to take back his words. “Never mind, then,” Sam snaps. “Forget it.”

Dean shakes his head, looking back to the lot in front of him. He catches a spot in the far corner, and cruises to the other end of the parking lot. “I want to go anyway,” Dean says, steering into the spot. “I’d rather be with you at school than home alone.” Dean pauses. “No, that’s not right,” he says, looking at Sam in the mirror. “I’d rather be with you, period.”

Sam looks away, but not before Dean catches his cheeks grow red. Silence fills the space between them as Dean straightens out and finally parks the car. Dean turns off the engine and sits back in his seat, closing his eyes and laying his head back for a moment, just enjoying the few minutes with Sam, even if it’s not in the way he truly wants.

“We’ll be alone for a whole month,” Sam says softly. Dean’s eyes snap open, and he looks behind him to find Sam staring right at him. Dean can only just make out his face in the darkness.

Dean swallows, throat suddenly dry. His body begins to heat up despite himself. Is this it? Does this mean…?

“Too bad we can’t do anything about it,” Sam says blandly.

Then he gets out of the car and leaves Dean alone in the dark.

After a few moments of stupid surprise and self-pity, Dean gets out of the car, collects the few bags from the trunk, and walks to the motel office. He spots John and Sam off to the side, standing on the curb in front of a room. It isn’t until he’s closer that he hears them arguing, Sam flailing his arms obscenely as he shouts as John. 

“There’s no way that’s happening! I’ll just sleep outside!”

Leave it to Sam to find something to get pissed about in any situation.

Dean interrupts before their dad can lose it. “What’s wrong?” he asks, shoving a duffel bag into Sam’s chest to shut him up. 

“I don’t get what the deal is,” John growls. “They’re out of cots, so you and Sam will have to share a bed. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before.”

Dean stops mid-movement, his blood going cold and hot at the same time in a way that’s completely unexplainable.

“I’d rather share a bed with a Wendigo,” Sam snaps. 

“There isn’t a couch?” Dean asks, trying not to look at Sam, even though it’s practically impossible. If Sam weren’t mad at him, he would be ecstatic that they could share a bed. They both would be. Not that they would be able to really do anything with their dad sleeping feet away, but still. 

“You too?” John asks, turning away from them and walking down the line of motel rooms. “What, do one of you want to share a bed with me?”

Silence from the two brothers.

“It was a joke, boys. Calm down.”

“We’re in a fight,” Sam says, causing Dean to choke on air. “I don’t want to be near him.”

“Well, suck it up, Sam,” John says coldly. “Or you really will be sleeping outside.”

“No one is sleeping outside,” Dean says, glancing at Sam pleadingly. 

John unlocks the door and steps inside, and Sam and Dean follow.

“Motherfucker!” Sam shouts.

No couch.

“Sam, watch your mouth,” John barks, rubbing his face exasperatingly. 

“No!” Sam walks to the bathroom and slams the door, such a childish act that it makes Dean wonder if he should laugh or wince.

John looks at Dean in disbelief. “What the hell are you two fighting about, exactly?”

Dean looks at the closed door of the bathroom. “It’s not worth mentioning.”

John shakes his head. “I’ll be back in a few,” he says, and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

“A few what?” Dean asks nobody, and sits on one of the beds, putting his face in his hands. Dean should feel horrible. Instead, adrenaline thrums in his veins, making his leg shake in anticipation, his heart beating wildly. Sharing a bed with Sam. The perfect torture.

All of a sudden, a pillow smacks against his head, snapping Dean out of it. “Ow! What the hell!”

“If that hurt, then you should find another career,” Sam says, his arms crossed against his chest. He changed into his pajamas, which is nothing except a spare t-shirt and his boxer shorts. Dean lets his eyes rake over Sam’s body, taking in the newly exposed skin. He feels his dick begin to harden, the familiar tug of arousal growing hotly in his gut. When he catches Sam’s scowl, he looks away, clearing his throat, and tries to think of dead spiders. His cock doesn’t get the message, though.

“Hunting isn’t a career,” Dean says lamely, scratching his arm even though it isn’t itchy. “It’s a life.” He shoves the pillow aside. 

Sam’s eyes narrow. “I don’t want to share a bed with you,” he says frankly, voice cold. His words cause a stab of pain in Dean’s chest.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Dean says, taking the pillow that Sam had thrown and putting it on the floor between the beds to illustrate his point. “Happy?”

Sam frowns, uncrossing and crossing his arms again. “Yes,” he says unconvincingly. Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “I am!”

Dean nods, rising from the bed and heading to the bathroom. “Great. I’m glad.” He closes the door behind him with a click, sits down on the edge of the bathtub, and stares at his lap.

“Go away,” he says to his erection. It does not listen. So Dean angrily unzips his jeans, pulls down his boxer briefs, and does the only thing he _can_ do. He grabs his cock roughly, biting his lip to contain his moan. “Fuck,” he whispers, wincing at the slight pain of his dry hand against his dick. He doesn’t stop to wet it, though; he only continues to stroke himself until his cock is painfully hard and twitching for release. Dean closes his eyes and puts his head back, his other hand clutching the cold porcelain of the tub for balance. 

Against his will, images of Sam flood his brain, but none that he had ever truly seen. Instead, he imagines Sam spread before him, on his hands and knees, the beautiful pink of his asshole waiting for Dean. He imagines sinking his throbbing cock into Sam, Sam crying out in pleasure at the long awaiting feel of his older brother’s dick inside of him. He imagines thrusting into him, his hands clutching Sam’s narrow hips to steady himself, to pull Sam closer, to feel Sam in his hands.

It drives Dean over the edge all to quickly, and his load spills into his hand as he comes, white waves of pleasure rolling throughout his body in waves, silently mouthing Sam’s name. 

It’s enough, but for only a moment.

As his breathing slows, he can’t help but think back to when he and Sam first did anything together. It was in a bathroom much like this one, sitting on a bathtub similar to the one Dean now sits on. It was only a month ago, but it feels like longer. 

Dean cleans up efficiently, and then decides to change in the room where Sam is. Why not drive Sam a little crazy? It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. He takes off his shirt and removes the rest of his pants, then slips back on his briefs. He exits the bathroom, smirking at the various possibilities of Sam’s reaction to his bare chest.

But when he gets back to the bed, Sam’s already curled under the covers, his back to Dean. Of course. 

Dean sighs heavily, tossing his dirty clothes to the side, and pulls on a clean shirt from his duffel. When he looks to the floor between the beds, his pillow his gone.

“Where’s my…?” But then Dean sees it, back on the bed from which it was thrown, next to Sam’s head where he lays.

“Don’t even think about _thinking about_ touching me,” Sam says, voice muffled by the sheets. “Got it?”

Dean gives a small smile. “Yeah,” he says, clicking off the light, immersing the room in darkness. He blindly pulls back the covers and slips into bed, making sure to leave as much space as possible between himself and Sam. It takes effort; it goes against every one of Dean’s natural instincts. But he does it, because he doesn’t want Sam kicking him out. Even if he can’t hold Sam, it’s enough to feel the heat of his body after a week of being unable to.

Sam drifts off after an hour or so, leaving Dean wide-awake and staring into the darkness. It’s not until another hour goes by that John returns to the room, stumbling inside, so clearly drunk. He collapses onto his bed fully clothed, and is snoring within minutes. Dean doesn’t bother waking him to get him to change; when John gets like this, he sleeps like the dead. 

Yet still Dean cannot fall asleep. Another hour goes by. When Dean glances at the digital clock by the bed, the time reads after two in the morning. He tries to close his eyes and empty his brain, but it’s no use. Sam’s presence beside him is like sleeping next to the sun; he can’t tune it out no matter what he does. All he can focus on is Sam’s soft breathing so close to his ear, the slight tickle of Sam’s arm so close to his own. It’s maddening, to have his little brother so close, yet unable to even hold him against his chest, and stroke his hair, and rub his back. It’s all Dean can think about.

By three in the morning, Dean has given up on sleep. He thinks about the vending machine by the motel office that he can check out, maybe get a late night snack. Is there cash in his duffel? Maybe his discarded jeans…

Sam stirs in his sleep, shifting his position until he faces Dean. “Mmm,” Sam sighs softly, the softest noise, but in the silence of the room it’s as if it blares. Dean can see Sam’s features in the darkness, his eyes having long been adjusted. He drinks it in, taking advantage of Sam’s sleep to observe the innocence of his expression, clear of the distress that’s visible when he’s awake. His skin is smooth and inviting, but Dean somehow refrains from brushing his fingers against Sam’s cheek. He promised he wouldn’t touch.

“Hmm,” Sam sighs again, shifting once more, until suddenly Sam is so close that Dean can see the strands of his eyelashes. Sam truly is beautiful when he sleeps, Dean can’t help but think. His lips are parted in that way Dean loves so much. He tries to focus on Sam’s other features, but it’s difficult; his lips seem to draw Dean in.

In a movement that’s as sudden as it is unexpected, Sam moves even closer to Dean’s body, so that their chests are pressed together. Dean takes in a sharp breath of air, squeezing his eyes shut. This is the most contact he’s had with Sam in a week, and it’s dizzying. Sam’s body heat is palpable through his t-shirt, and it radiates against Dean agonizingly.

Then Sam moans, and Dean’s whole body reacts on its own. In an instant, his body is hot, his blood racing, heart pounding in his chest.

“Sam?” Dean whispers. Is Sam awake? But there’s no answer; Dean only hears the measured breathing of deep sleep emitting from Sam, as well as his father’s snores in the background. What the hell?

Sam moves closer, and Dean bites his lip, suppressing a shudder. This isn’t fair. When Sam said not to touch, Dean assumed Sam would stay on his side of the bed, and wouldn’t be practically begging Dean to touch him while he slept. 

And then, oh god, and _then_ , Dean _feels it_ when Sam’s hips begin to move against his leg. 

_Oh my fucking god,_ Dean thinks, his dick growing instantly hard in his briefs.

Sam’s hips continue to move, grinding into Dean’s leg, his _bare leg_ , and that’s when he feels Sam’s cock, hard and hot against his skin. “Ahh,” Sam moans softly, his face burrowing into Dean’s chest, hands moving up to clutch at Dean’s shirt. “Mhhhm,” he moans again. 

“Sam,” Dean whispers, frantic. “Sam, wake up.” But Sam does not wake up. Instead, his body shifts again. 

“Fuck,” Dean hisses, bucking against Sam involuntarily, his cock throbbing. Sam’s erection is right against Dean’s now, and Sam is still grinding, his hips moving against Dean in just the right spot. Dean breathes heavily, trying hard not to moan aloud. His hands stay in fists at his side, unwilling to move at all in case it wakes Sam. He doesn’t know how Sam would react to his; probably blame him, with his luck.

“Dean,” Sam moans, his face in Dean’s neck. Dean’s eyes widen, his cock twitching as the sound of his name.

“Sam?” Dean whispers. No answer. Then Dean realizes: even in his sleep, Sam is thinking about him. The thought causes warmth to spread throughout Dean’s chest; it’s nothing like arousal, but more a raw happiness that Sam has been having as much as a hard time this past week as Dean.

Sam’s hips move more erratically now, a quiet whimpering coming from his mouth. Sam must be close, and Dean is so turned on right now that his head feels light. Without thinking much about it, Dean moves his hand up Sam’s leg, slightly brushing the warm skin and enjoying the feel of the goose bumps that rise at Dean’s touch. Dean closes his eyes, savoring the feel of Sam beneath his hand. When he reaches Sam’s hip, Dean wraps his hand around it, placing it on the naked area just between Sam’s shirt and boxers. God, how Dean missed this.

And then, something changes. Sam’s hips still move, but they are less frantic now, slowing, almost hesitant. Sam moans again, high pitched and intoxicating, and Dean’s grip tightens, groaning at the friction as he presses himself further against Sam. But then a hand pushes against Dean’s chest, and then—

“D-Dean?” Sam is awake, eyes wide as they take in Dean. “What– what are you—?”

Dean silences Sam with kiss, unable to hold himself back any longer. How could he? Sam practically just made Dean a part of whatever wet dream he was having; did he expect Dean to casually get up and apologize? Hell no. This one’s on Sam.

He shifts and all at once Sam and is underneath him, Dean holding himself up by his forearms as he slides his tongue along Sam’s bottom lip, asking for entrance.

Dean expects refusal, for Sam to push Dean off of him and remind him angrily about their argument. He doesn’t care, though, only focusing on tasting as much of Sam as he can before that happens.

But instead, Sam’s arms wrap around Dean’s neck, pulling him closer, his lips parting to allow Dean’s tongue to brush against his. Sam sighs then, almost in relief, as Dean grinds his cock into Sam while their tongues explore each other, his legs spreading wide and then rising to wrap around Dean’s waist. Dean feels it then, as he touches Sam, just how much his little brother had been holding himself back too. He feels the tension exiting Sam’s body, the conflict leaving from his every pore. Sam is giving in, in the same way Dean had expected himself to do the entire week.

Dean doesn’t know exactly what that means. That this is over? That it’s going to go back to how it was? Dean doesn’t know, nor does he care at the moment. All he cares about is sliding a hand between their bodies and pulling down Sam’s boxers, then his own, and wrapping his hand around both their cocks.

Sam breaks the kiss to press his head back against the pillow, his mouth open in a silent moan. 

Dean leans down to Sam’s ear. “Better stay quiet,” he says quietly, brushing his lips against Sam’s earlobe and enjoying the answering shiver. “Just in case.”

Sam’s movements hesitate for the second time, glancing over at their dad’s bed, which suddenly seems way to close. 

“He’s drunk,” Dean says, biting down onto Sam’s flesh. Sam simply whines softly in response, directing his attention back to Dean, legs growing tighter around him. Dean moves his hand over their cocks slowly, his thumb mingling their pre-come together as he moves. The feeling of Sam’s cock against his is heady, and he thrusts into his hand shallowly, groaning as he their erections slide together.

“So good,” Sam whimpers, arms still around Dean’s neck. “I— I’m close,” he breathes.

“Together,” Dean instructs, moving his hand faster, tightening his grip slightly. “After all this time… together, okay?” His breathing is rough and choppy, voice gasping in pleasure as he whispers in Sam’s ear. Sam nods in response, raising his head to press his lips against Dean’s. Dean once again savors the taste, not knowing if it will be there for him in the morning.

Soon they are at their limit, their come spilling into Dean’s hand and onto Sam’s stomach as they release, both brothers panting and silently whispering each other’s names. Dean leans his forehead against Sam’s as waves of pleasure crash into him, his eyes shut tightly as he breathes in Sam’s breath. 

When they still, neither one of them says a word for quite some time. Dean soundlessly cleans them up, pulling off his shirt and using it as a makeshift towel. Dean can feel Sam’s eyes on him the entire process, though he doesn’t sense anger or resentment in the stare. He feels as if it is calculating; Dean knows Sam must be thinking up a storm.

Eventually, Dean lays back on the bed beside Sam, shoulder to shoulder, no hint of space like there was before. Dean closes his eyes and simply feels the tingle and warmth of his brother’s skin against his.

“I…” Sam starts, speaking softly in the darkness.

Dean shakes his head, too tired to hear whatever words of argument Sam might say. “I miss you more than anything,” he says, before Sam can continue. He hopes it is enough.

A pause, and then, “Have you changed your mind?” Sam asks, voice small, so expectant that it makes Dean’s throat tighten.

Has his mind changed? It’s sick, it’s cruel, but now that he’s been able to touch Sam, Dean is thinking far more clearly. Reasons of _too young_ and _not yet_ swirl around his brain, and he tries to shut them out.

He tries. He really does.

The silence seems to be all the answer that Sam needs. “For what it’s worth,” Sam says, as he turns his back on his brother, “I miss you too. But I’m trying to show you that…” a pause. “You’re being stupid, Dean,” he says simply.

Dean knows, yet for some reason, no words come out of his mouth.

“As soon as you think I’m _mature enough,_ or whatever,” Sam says, voice like ice, “let me know. Until then, I don’t want you trying anything else. I mean it.”

And because Dean doesn’t want his kid brother to get the last word in, because Dean is stubborn and he wants Sam to know how much he is hurting and aching for him, Dean allows himself to speak. “Why are you even doing this?” Dean asks, turning to face his brother’s back. “I don’t get it. I can see this is killing you just as much as it is me. I felt it when I held you. You hate it, Sam. Why can’t we just—?”

“Because it’s worse for me,” Sam says, “having only part of you.” Sam’s words bring a silence. Dean doesn’t know how to react. “It sucks,” Sam continues, “but having nothing at all will be better. It has to be.”

“It’s worse,” Dean says, pleading. “It’s worse. You know it is.”

“Not for me,” Sam says, but the way his voice cracks gives away his lie instantly. He clears his throat. “No more, Dean. Nothing else.”

Dean’s teeth clench. “Don’t pretend like I was alone in this,” Dean says, trying to push down his annoyance. “Next time, don’t dry hump me in your sleep, and there won’t be an issue.” His voice is harder than he means it to be, but he doesn’t try to take them back.

Sam doesn’t reply. 

Dean doesn’t get any sleep that night.

__

They are up and on the road by seven in the morning, a later start than usual for the Winchesters. John makes Dean drive, unable to focus due to his killer hangover, and Dean doesn’t have the strength to argue that he’s not doing much better. So he drives the half-day’s drive to their destination, eyes burning from lack of sleep, head pounding from exhaustion. John snores next to him.

Sam hasn’t so much as glanced at Dean since last night. When he woke up this morning, Sam was already out of bed, milling around the room fully dressed, avoiding eye contact. If Dean sensed anger from Sam before, it was nothing compared to this. Last night just made this worse, and for some reason, it was all Dean’s fault. Even though he wasn’t the one to start it. 

“The next exit’s ours,” John says from the passenger seat, suddenly awake, his fingers rubbing his temples. 

Dean nods and switches lanes. Around them the sky is a dull gray. Stooping trees lean over the freeway, their branches stretching across the lanes as if reaching for something. Dean struggles for a moment trying to think where the hell they are, then he remembers passing a sign last night that read: Welcome To Oregon. 

When he exits the freeway, the familiar quiet neighborhood indicates a small town, a place not too out of the ordinary for the Winchesters to settle down in for a while. In fact, Dean prefers the small towns to the larger cities; the people always seem to be more honest in a place that’s more tight-knit.

“Down this road, and make a right at the intersection,” John says, cracking his back as he stretches in his seat. “The first turn off after that is our street.”

Dean follows his dad’s directions. When he makes a left onto the street John indicated, he reads the sign of the street he’ll be living on for the next month: Saturn Avenue. 

“Saturn,” Sam mutters from the back, his tone echoing Dean’s thoughts. It’s an interesting name for a street.

John points to a house at the end of the street, which ends at a dead-end marked by a wall covered with vines and rose bushes. Dean parks the impala in the driveway, already inspecting the building in front of him. It isn’t ugly, but it’s nothing special, just like John had said. The two-story house has a porch, with a battered looking swing by the front door. The place is painted a faint blue, bordering on gray, the color not dissimilar to the sky. What once must have been white trim is now cracked and browning, but not in a rundown way. If anything, it makes the place look quainter. Dean likes it immediately, which is stupid, since this is only temporary.

Sam hops out of the car, trotting up to the front steps, head back to look up at the second story. “Two floors!” He yells back at the car, voice full of excitement. He gestures at them to join him, looking through the windows as he waits.

“I’ll go from here,” John says, looking at Sam as he says it. “No point in waiting another day.”

Dean looks at John in disbelief, frustration jumping out before he can stop it. “You’re kidding,” he says, fists clenching. “You can’t wait one night?” Dean is angry; John rents them a fucking house, and can’t even bother to enjoy it with them for a single evening. It’s ridiculous. 

“People are expecting me, Dean,” John says, voice firm. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.” He sticks his hand in his jeans pocket and rummages, then takes out a pair of keys. “For the house, one for each of you. The school is three blocks down the main road, heading west. They’ll expect you Monday. Eight o’clock.” He rummages in his pocket again, then takes out a wad of cash. “This should cover you. Take Sam to the general store later today for school supplies. Don’t get anything you don’t need.”

Dean shakes his head, grabbing the keys and cash and shoving open his door. “See you in a month,” Dean says coldly, getting out of the car. He goes around to the trunk and takes out his and Sam’s duffels, slamming it closed afterwards. He stomps up to the house, the stairs creaking in distress with every smack of his boots. 

“What about dad?” Sam asks, looking at John through the windshield of the Impala. Dean looks over his shoulder at the car to see John’s head out of the window, waving at Sam goodbye. Sam gives one half-heartedly back, face drooping.

“Salt lines!” John shouts as he starts the car. “Don’t forget! And watch out for Sam!”

Dean unlocks the door as John pulls out of the driveway, tossing the bags inside. The rumble of the car soon fades away. “Come on, Sammy,” Dean says, holding the door open for his little brother.

But Sam looks down the road at the retreating form of the car, hands in fists at his side. “He’s an asshole,” Sam says through clenched teeth. He looks back at Dean, anger and sadness potent in his eyes. “I’m pissed at you,” he says.

“I know,” Dean replies, wincing at the pain in Sam’s eyes.

“But you have to promise,” Sam says, facing Dean entirely. “No matter what. Don’t ever leave me like dad does. Okay?” He raises his head to hide the trembling of his chin. “Even if we’re fighting. Even if we’re mad at each other. Promise me.”

Dean takes a step closer to Sam, testing the waters. When Sam doesn’t take a step back, he puts a hand to the side of Sam’s face. The moment his hand makes contact, a tear slides down Sam’s cheek.

“I promise, Sammy,” Dean says, wiping away the drop with his thumb. It’s the easiest promise he’s ever made. “Always, Sam. I’m never going to leave you. Not in a million years.” He presses his forehead to Sam’s, cradling their head together. “I promise,” he whispers.

They stand like that for a bit, neither one of them moving. Eventually, Sam nods, stepping back from Dean’s touch. He nods again, and Dean figures it’s more to clear his head than anything else. Sam stretches his shoulders back, his expression hardening once again, and enters the house. Dean follows, closing the door of their house behind him. He’ll be by Sam’s side no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to try my damn hardest to get the next chapter up in time, because even I want this whole thing to be resolved asap! Make sure to tell me your thoughts in the comments, and don't forget to leave kudos! 
> 
> Until next time :)  
> DancesWithFiends


	7. You're It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sam and Dean are tossed into school while their dad is away, Sam grows jealous when Dean attracts more attention than what's comfortable. Sam is pissed... How is Dean going to show Sam that he's the only one for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW. I KNOW. It's been too long. I FEEL SO BAD. I always hate when authors don't update... I HATE WHAT I'VE BECOME. But I'm here now! School has been brutal, but thank god for summer! And honestly, I don't want to brag, but I think this chapter will make up for my absence. Want a hint? Let's just say that something happens, something you've all been waiting for...  
> I hope you enjoy! And to make up for my insanely long absence (WHICH I PROMISE WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN!) I plan to post my wincest soundtrack, the one that I usually write to! So look forward to that. And also, I do plan on posting this chapter in Dean's POV, but that will be later. And probably as a separate oneshot. I'm excited to move on from this little part, because I've got some great plans.  
> Anyway! Without any further ado, The Good Days, Chapter 7 :)

When Sam wakes up Monday morning in the unfamiliar bed of his temporary home on Saturn Avenue, he feels as if a truck ran him over. His eyes are burning and crusted shut, his mouth dry, and his whole body aches. He also feels slightly queasy. It’s what happens when you get no sleep the night before. 

He’s surprised at first at his surroundings, forgetting why he’s there. His bedroom on the second story of the small house is practically bare, with a simple desk under the window on one wall and a dresser to the right of his bed. The only items that belong to Sam are the clothes and weapons from his duffel and the recently purchased school supplies that litter the desk. A shitty, ten-dollar backpack waits to be filled on his desk chair. 

It comes to him in a rush, and he groans. It’s the first day of school in this small town in Oregon, and Sam is slightly dreading it.

Under normal circumstances, he would be looking forward to attending school. It’s the only time during his life on the road where he gets to pretend that he’s a normal kid, going to school and learning, preparing for a future just like everybody else. Even though it’s always short lived, Sam never hesitates to enjoy it before it’s gone.

But this time, Sam can’t imagine himself sitting through eight hours of classes, five days a week for the next month. It’s more than currently feeling like he’s been bowled over by a sixteen-wheeler; Sam is plain frustrated. He’s frustrated at his Dad, for always taking off, never seeming to care that he’s leaving his two sons behind. He’s frustrated that all his life, he’s been taught the kinds of things no other kid his age should be taught; how to survive, how to kill, and what things are really waiting out there in the dark.

But most of all, what _really_ has Sam fuming at six thirty in the morning on a Monday, is his frustration towards his older brother. 

And it’s mostly sexual frustration. Which only makes Sam more pissed.

The way Sam sees it, Dean should have given in five times by now. And Sam doesn’t get how it hasn’t happened yet. He thought for sure that cutting Dean off cold was the surest way to get what he wanted. But now, over a week later, all it’s brought him is a bad case of blue balls and an attitude that can make birds fall out of the sky as they fly past. 

Sam is goddamn tired of it. And pissed, of course. Really fucking pissed. 

He’s frustrated at being treated like a child, by the one person who he thought would see him as an equal. He’s frustrated that Dean is clinging stubbornly to half-assed reasons for not sleeping with him when both of them know Dean wants it just as bad as he does. He’s frustrated that… Well, he’s frustrated that he isn’t having sex. And god, does Sam want it _so bad_.

The first time Sam thought Dean was going to give in was right after he came up with this stupid idea to begin with. Right after he told Dean hands off, he expected groveling and apologies, immediately followed by hours of being fucked into the mattress. Look how that turned out.

The second time Sam thought this was going to end was when Dean walked in on him in the motel room a few stops back, masturbating. Sam didn’t bother trying to cover up or hide what he was doing. Instead, he looked Dean right in the eye and kept going. He watched as Dean’s control began to crumble behind his deep green eyes, his tongue peeking out from his mouth to lick his lips. Just as Sam was beginning to see a glimmer of hope, Dean stomped right by him and shut himself in the bathroom.

He was in there fifteen minutes. Sam knew what he was doing.

The third time Sam truly believed Dean was a goner was when he woke up that night he had fallen asleep with Dean next to him. Dean’s hands were on his hips, and Sam was impossibly hard and so close to coming, grinding against Dean helplessly in his half-asleep stupor. He had no idea how it happened, though in the moment, he thought he remembered a faint trace of a dream that surely involved Dean. When Dean has kissed him (probably to shut him up, but not that he cared), Sam couldn’t refrain from giving in to Dean. But afterward, when Sam had asked him the question, fully expecting a positive answer, all he had gotten was silence.

Shame and cold rejection sunk into him that night. He had fallen asleep too close to tears.

The fourth time Sam thought it was over was when they first got to the house on Saturn Avenue. John had just left, and Sam was distraught. Sam hated feeling like that every time their Dad left, but sometimes, like this last time, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand how their own father could seem so distant, so cold. When Dean had cupped his cheek on the porch and wiped away his tears, Sam had stupidly thought they would go inside and passionately kiss (corny, Sam later thought), until they finally went all the way. Instead, Dean helped him unpack in silence, his presence somehow being comforting and lacking all at once.

And the fifth time… well, it was idiotic. Their first days alone in the house, and Sam expected… well, _something_ to happen. But nothing had. Dean followed the no touching rule annoyingly well, not even giving Sam the depressing looks across the room like he had the last week or so. And it pissed Sam off. 

Doesn’t Dean want to fight for him?

God, Sam cuts that thought out of his mind as soon as it pops in there. He isn’t a goddamn teenage girl. He’s Sam Winchester. And yeah, he currently has half a boner and a hissy attitude to start off his first day at school. But everyone has rough starts. Sam is going to get through this, despite his moronic older brother who won’t fuck him already. And somehow, Sam is going to get Dean to give in. Before the month is out. Whatever it takes.

As those thoughts swirl around his brain, Sam finally wonders what woke him up, but only for a moment, because soon he hears the noise again: banging, coming from downstairs. Sam groans again as he rises from bed, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. The banging noise echoes again, this time a sound like cabinets slamming shut. Sam rolls his eyes. What the hell is Dean doing down there?

Sam checks the digital clock on his nightstand, and figures he has enough time to shower before school. As the hot water hits his back, the steam swirling around his body, he jacks himself off. He can’t stop the silent sighs of his brother’s name as he comes, imagining the sprinkling of freckles across Dean’s nose and cheeks, the rough callous of Dean’s hands on his skin. 

Afterwards, Sam dresses to the noises of the morning, listening to the birds chirp outside his window, the creaking of the trees moving in the Oregon wind. Also, the annoying sound of stomping coming up the stairs, getting closer and closer to his bedroom door.

Seconds after Sam pulls on his t-shirt, his bedroom door flies open, and Dean stands there, looking hot as all hell in worn out jeans, a black t-shirt that stretches beautifully across his chest, and a brown leather jacket slung over a shoulder. Holy hell, Dean is making this easy for nobody.

“Good, you’re up,” Dean says, leaning against the doorframe. “I thought I was going to have to poor water on your head or something.”

Sam scowls, both at his brother’s comment and his brother’s appearance. He doesn’t know what else to do, really. But the banter between brothers has been easier lately. Sam had grown tired of being distant from Dean, and even though he hates Dean’s reluctance to sleep with him, he hates not being able to talk to him more. The past weekend was better; Sam fell into the relaxed conversation with Dean all too easily, and for some reason, it’s made all of this kind of… better. Or worse.

“I’ve been up for half an hour,” Sam says, closing his dresser drawer. “While you’ve been building a town house in the living room by the sound of it.”

Dean grins, and Sam grows angry and warm all at once. “Breakfast,” Dean says cheerily, motioning for Sam to follow as he pushes off the doorframe. “There isn’t a better way to start the day than bacon, Sammy. Never forget that.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but nevertheless grabs his bag and shoes and follows Dean downstairs. He doesn’t bother trying to tear his eyes away from Dean’s ass as he trails behind him, biting his lip as he watches the fabric of Dean’s jeans grow tight with each one of Dean’s strides.

“Sammy,” Dean says without looking back, continuing to walk down the stairs. “My eyes are up here. 

Sam’s cheeks burn, and he clenches his hands into fists. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he bites out, stomping angrily behind Dean.

“So, you weren’t checking out my ass?” Dean asks, voice casual as he steps off the stairs, turning to face Sam. 

Sam stands a step above him, for once a few inches taller than his brother. Dean looks up at him, his eyes twinkling with mischief, his lips slightly upturned in the beginnings of a smirk. “I…” Sam clenches his teeth as he blushes again, looking away from Dean’s piercing gaze. 

Dean chuckles again. “I don’t blame you,” he says, taking Sam’s chin between his fingers and pulling it to face him. “It’s not like I don’t stare at your ass all the time,” he admits, leaning his face close. Sam struggles to keep his eyes open as Dean leans in, his breath warm on Sam’s face.

“S-stop,” Sam breathes, putting a hand on Dean’s chest in warning. “No touching,” he reminds him, voice shaky. The heat from Dean’s chest radiates to Sam’s hand, making Sam all at once regret putting a hand on Dean and wanting to pull him closer, to feel Dean’s heat all along his skin.

“So let go,” Dean says, his voice low. It sends a shiver down Sam’s spine, all the way down to his toes. Sam’s eyes flicker to Dean’s lips. They’re slightly parted, still wet from the last time Dean must’ve licked them. Sam’s body aches at the close proximity, his whole being wanting to just lean a little closer to meet Dean’s warmth, to fix his arms around Dean’s neck, to wrap his legs around his waist.

“W-what?” Sam asks, his heart beating so loud he’s sure Dean must hear it. 

“Your hand, Sam,” Dean says, raising his own to place it on top of Sam’s, which has somehow curled into Dean’s shirt, clutching the black fabric tightly. “If there’s no touching, then let go.”

Sam nods, swallowing heavily, and slowly releases his grip on Dean’s shirt. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking down at his feet, fidgeting uncomfortably. 

Dean clears his throat and steps back. “Breakfast,” Dean says, as if reminding himself. He feels Dean’s eyes on him another second before Dean turns towards the kitchen. Sam takes a deep breath, not realizing he was practically holding it, and follows.

Laid out on the kitchen table are two plates, entirely covered in scrambles eggs, two glasses of orange juice next to them, and in between the two sets, a huge platter with nothing but bacon on it. Sam guesses there to be at least two packages of bacon prepared, and doesn’t know why he expected anything less.

Sam sits in one of the seats. “Wow,” he says, picking up a fork and prodding his eggs. “You did this all by yourself?” 

Dean sits across from him, nodding. “I can cook,” he says, picking up his own fork, stabbing the eggs on his plate, and shoveling them into his mouth. “Try it,” he says with his mouth full, gesturing towards Sam’s plate with his fork.

Sam takes a few bites of his eggs, which aren’t bad at all, and then serves himself a few strips of bacon. When he looks back at Dean, he does a double take.

Dean is ravenous. Sam watches in awe as Dean takes bite after bite, barely pausing to swallow before taking in the next, alternating between egg and bacon. When Dean’s mouth is full, his cheeks inflated with food, bits of egg falling out of his mouth, he finally seems to notice Sam staring at him. He freezes with his fork in midair, eyes wide as they catch Sam looking at him, and a big piece of egg falls off his fork and onto his lap. There’s a long silence, and Sam just looks at Dean in disbelief. Dean stares right back.

Then Sam looses it, snorting out laughter, the image of Dean eating so obscenely ridiculous that it causes his stomach to hurt he laughs so hard. Soon Dean is laughing too, food spraying out of his mouth as he almost chokes around the egg, which causes Sam to laugh even harder.

“Oh god,” Sam wheezes between laughs, clutching his stomach, “you’re disgusting!” He laughs again as Dean tries to frown, but he’s laughing along with Sam too much to manage it.

“H-hey!” Dean says, trying to take in lungs full of air, his smile stretched wide across his face. “I just made really good food!” As if to prove it, he tries to take another bite of egg, but ends up laughing again and spitting out his food all over the table.

“Gross, Dean!” Sam shouts, shoving his chair back, but he’s laughing so hard now he thinks his stomach might burst, and he’s smiling so wide his cheeks ache. “S-stop! I can’t breathe!” he gasps, struggling to calm down enough to take in some air. Dean’s smile only grows, clearly enjoying Sam losing it over his atrocious table manners.

But Dean lets him calm down, and eventually Sam stops laughing, his breathing heavy as he smiles stupidly at Dean. “You’re an idiot,” Sam says, shaking his head and picking his fork back up.

“Guilty,” Dean says, his smile just as bright as Sam’s. It’s so big Sam has to look away, and looks at his plate instead. “But seriously,” Dean says, the table creaking as he leans forward a little. “How’s the grub?”

Sam rolls his eyes, looking back at Dean. “Fine, Dean. It’s edible, at least, so I’ll take what I can get.”

Dean scoffs, grabbing a strip of bacon and taking a violent bite. “You love it,” he says, lounging in his chair. 

Sam only rolls his eyes again. “When do we leave?” he asks, grabbing his cup of juice and taking a sip. Dean looks behind him at the clock above the stove.

“Ten minutes,” he says, turning back around and grabbing another piece of bacon. “Bet you I can eat this whole plate before time’s up.” He grins, waving the bacon in the air like a wand.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” Sam says, trying to force his face into a frown, but it’s impossible. “And anyway, there’s no way. It’s just too much bacon.”

Dean gasps, slamming his hand down on the table, making the silverware rattle. “Never,” he says, pointing his bacon at Sam’s face, “ever, say that again.” He bites his lip, a grin clearly fighting its way through. “There is never _too much bacon,_ Sammy,” he says, taking a bite to illustrate his point. He points it back at Sam. “ _Never._ ”

“It’s impossible,” Sam insists.

Dean allows his grin to slip through, eyes twinkling with mischief, and for the next ten minutes, Sam watches as Dean finishes off the plate of bacon, laughing so hard that tears stream down his face.

__

Sam looks at Dean’s pained expression as they arrive at school. The huge building looms in front of them, hundred of students milling around outside or entering through the set of double doors a few yards away. 

“My offer still stands,” Sam says, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulders. “I won’t tell Dad. Promise.”

Dean shakes his head, squaring his shoulders and clenching his jaw. He carries no backpack, just like every time they go to school. Dean once winked at Sam and told him he didn’t need books or supplies to pass a class. That was years ago.

“And what I said still stands, too,” Dean says, stretching his arms above his head, as if needing physical preparation for the day. “I’m sticking with you. Even if that means going to high school and interacting with the morons of the world.”

Sam looks away from Dean and towards the kids, gathered in groups, a few already noticing the two brothers. “They’re not all morons,” Sam says, ignoring the stares of those who gawk at Dean, not even bothering to hide their interest. “I mean, I’m sure a few aren’t…” he trails off as he catches a blonde girl lick her lips at Dean and then whisper excitedly to her friends. “Or maybe not,” he mumbles.

Dean laughs, oblivious to the attention. “Compared to you, everyone’s a moron, Sammy,” he says, bumping Sam’s shoulder with his own. “Come on, let’s go. Better get this over with.”

They walk together to the front doors, both of them ignoring the attention, already used to these first days from experience. Sam struggles not to throw mean looks at the girls who gawk at Dean, and the few boys who do as well. He almost forgot about this, the amount of kids after Dean. It always bothered him, even more so when Dean would walk down the halls with some girl, his arm around her as Sam looked on helplessly. 

Surely this time is different, though. After all, Dean and Sam weren’t as close before, not in the way they are now. Or… were? Sam tears his eyes away from a particularly forward girl with long hair and bright blue eyes, visibly preening as Dean walks past her. Dean glances at her, and Sam’s hands clench into fists. But just as soon as Sam notices the look, Dean has looked away, continuing down the concrete path towards the front doors.

Sam lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, but his jealousy hardly lessens.

The hallway is just as busy as the front lawn. Students walk back and forth, some standing by open lockers, conversing with friends. 

“Hey,” Sam hears Dean say, and he looks over to see Dean talking to what must be a lower classman. “Senior and freshman classrooms?”

The kid blinks and points down the hall to their right. “Seniors,” the boy squeaks. Then he points to the left. “Freshman.”

“Thanks, man,” Dean says, and turns back to Sam. The boy scuttles off. “Looks like we’re on opposite ends.”

Sam nods. “Just my luck,” he mumbles, looking down the hall towards his classes. “What’s the name of my homeroom teacher again?”

Dean pulls out a scrap of paper from his pocket. “Linderman. I don’t know if that’s a miss or a mister, though…” he trails off and stuffs the paper back in his pocket. “I’ve got Jackson. I guess I’ll see you later, then?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at Dean. “Later.”

Dean nods, but neither of them move. “First break is at ten.”

“I know,” Sam replies, watching a group of girls giggle at Dean as they walk past. A scowl forms on his face before he can stop it.

“Ignore them,” Dean says softly, tapping Sam lightly on the shoulder. Sam looks at Dean’s careful expression. “Like I do,” he smiles. “You don’t have to worry about it.” 

Sam nods, looking away.

“I’ll meet you?”

“Sure,” Sam says casually, though he’s grateful for the offer.

“Be nice to the morons,” Dean says, smiling at Sam before turning and walking towards the senior classrooms. “Ten o’clock!” he calls over his shoulder.

Sam watches Dean grow smaller as he walks down the hall, then turns and walks in the other direction, ignoring the curious looks from the other students. He stops at the door marked with his new teacher’s name and steps inside, sitting down at the first free desk he finds.

“New student?” a voice calls, and Sam looks up at a woman by the chalkboard. Sam nods. “You must be Sam. I’m Ms. Linderman. Come on up and grab your schedule.”

Sam shuffles to the front of the room just as the first bell rings. He sighs at the lineup of lessons on the slip of paper. Today is going to be a long day.

__

When the bell rings at ten o’clock to signal the snack break, Sam practically shoots out of his chair and fights a smile when he finds Dean leaning on a locker right across from his classroom door. 

“How’d you know I had math?” Sam asks as Dean pushes off from the locker, falling into step beside him.

“I left class early and looked in the window of every classroom until I found you,” he says, shrugging. 

“You did not,” Sam says, though his cheeks warm at the possibility. “You flirted with the office secretary to get my schedule, didn’t you?”

Dean looks at Sam, his expression unreadable. “You really think that?”

Sam raises an eyebrow.

Dean sighs, looking straight ahead again. “That was my first stop. But when I found out that the office secretary was a seventy-year-old man happily married to a woman named Doris, I had to go a different route.”

Sam’s cheeks warm further. “So you really did look in all the classrooms?”

“Every single one,” Dean says, looking down at Sam with a heart-stopping grin. “You looked bored out of your mind in there, by the way.”

Sam tries to swallow, looking away from Dean to clear his head. “We were going over linear functions. I learned that in seventh grade.”

“Smartass,” Dean says, bumping his shoulder into Sam’s as they go out a door and into the sunshine.

“Whatever,” Sam says, bumping him right back. “What’d you have so far?”

“History and study hall.”

“How was history?”

“Boring as shit.”

Sam laughs. “And what’d you do in study hall?”

Dean sits down at a table, leaning an elbow on the edge of the tabletop, a frown suddenly on his face. “Not important.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asks, sitting across from him. He inspects the crease between Dean’s eyebrows. 

Dean shrugs. “It’s like I said,” he says, looking Sam in the eye and giving a small smile. “Morons.”

Sam’s curious, but figures that if it were important, Dean would let him know. So he pulls out a bag of chips from his backpack and tosses it to Dean, who instantly cheers up at the sight of food.

“Where’d you get this?” Dean says, breaking open the bag and popping a chip into his mouth.

“I—”

“Dean?” A voice interrupts, cutting Sam off. The boys look up to find a girl standing by their table, her long hair tied up in a ponytail. Sam recognizes her from this morning, the girl with bright blue eyes. “You’re Dean, right?”

Dean nods, swallowing his mouthful of chips, his hand tightening on the bag so that it crinkles audibly. Sam frowns.

“I’m Liz,” the girl says, ignoring Sam completely, her body entirely turned towards Dean. It’s obvious that the girl altered her top so that it shows more cleavage than it was probably meant to, and the way she leans a hand on the table to angle herself closer to Dean makes Sam want to touch Dean protectively, to show her that Dean is already spoken for.

But he doesn’t. Because he can’t. 

“I heard that you’re new,” Liz says, “and since I’m part of the leadership group here, I was wondering if you wanted a tour around the school sometime?” She smiles, putting her perfectly white teeth on display, and Sam suddenly has the urge to hit her.

“Well, that’s nice of you,” Dean says, showing her one of his classic smiles, the sort he always gives to pretty girls. Sam’s frown deepens. “Me and my brother have been getting lost since this morning.” He looks at Sam, and his smile changes, to one that he saves solely for him, and Sam can’t help but lose a little of his mounting anger. “We would love a tour.”

Liz suddenly seems to notice Sam, and her smile falters before coming back two times brighter. “And what’s your name?” she asks, her voice taking up a tone so condescending that Sam struggles to stay seated. 

“I’m Sam,” he says, not bothering to disguise his distaste, “and I’m not three years old, so you can talk to me normally.”

Liz’s eyes widen, and she takes a step back, glancing helplessly at Dean. But Dean doesn’t notice her look, instead digging for another chip and crunching it loudly in his mouth.

“Maybe we can do a tour tomorrow?” Sam asks, giving a smile that probably looks as fake as it feels. Liz nods, looking one last time at Dean before walking away.

“You didn’t have to be mean,” Dean says, his mouth full of chips. “She meant well.”

Sam scowls at Dean, angrily pulling out a second bag of chips from his backpack. Why the hell would Dean be defending some girl? “It’s like you said,” Sam says, repeating Dean’s earlier words. “Morons.”

__

Later that day, as Sam walks from third period to fourth, he sees Dean standing a little bit ahead of him. He almost calls out to him, until the kids in front of him move to the side, and he sees who Dean stands with.

It’s the girl from earlier, the one with long hair and blue eyes. Liz. She’s touching Dean’s arm, and Dean isn’t doing anything to stop it. In fact, Sam notes with horror, he’s _smiling_ at her, talking to her animatedly.

Sam’s blood begins to boil, and his hands curl into fists. He watches, frozen, as Liz stands on her toes to whisper something in Dean’s ear. And then Dean _laughs,_ and Sam can’t take it anymore. He looks away and walks right past them, his teeth grinding as he hears the wispy sound of the girl’s voice in his ears. 

Dean doesn’t notice him. Even though Sam walks right past, close enough to hear another rumble of Dean’s laughter, Dean doesn’t notice him.

__ 

The rest of Sam’s classes are a drag. Before lunch, Sam makes sure to leave class early to avoid Dean. All he can thing about is how stupid he was not to expect this: if Dean can’t get it from him, of course he would go somewhere else. It’s not like they talked about being together exclusively. And even if they did, Sam’s made it clear to Dean that nothing would be happening until Dean gives in. In a normal relationship, wouldn’t that mean they were… done? So why _wouldn’t_ Dean be hooking up with every girl he meets?

It hurts. It hurts more than Sam thought it was possible. Every time he thinks of the girl with blue eyes touching Dean, or somehow worse, Dean touching her… he fights to overcome waves of nausea. A crushing pain begins to form in his chest, a mixture of sadness and anger, hurt and betrayal. Sam wonders how it’s possible to feel for someone so strongly that it physically pains him. He wonders how he can love Dean so much, and be so angry with him all at the same time. How dare Dean be so reluctant to be with him, them jump at the first opportunity to fuck some _girl_. Sam grows angrier with each passing minute of the day.

The last class of the day passes by with his thoughts distracting him, making him forget to leave class early to avoid Dean. He doesn’t want to walk home with him; he’d rather beat him home and ignore him for the rest of the month. 

Except it hardly matters, because when Sam leaves class, Dean isn’t waiting for him. Sam doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or grateful. He makes his way to the front of the school, gripping the straps of his backpack, and squints as he goes outside. The sun is bright overhead, the heat potent despite it being late afternoon. 

He scans the grass, but doesn’t see Dean anywhere. Sam tries not to mind; he wanted to walk home alone anyway, he reminds himself. So he walks along the concrete path to the sidewalk that leads home.

And that’s when he sees them.

It’s an image Sam has seen countless times before, at a variety of schools, but for some reason this time is so much worse. Dean is standing on the sidewalk, talking to Liz again. And Liz is writing on a slip of paper as Dean looks down at her, that smile that Sam hates plastered on his face. Liz looks up, and instead of handing Dean the paper that she has inevitably written her number on, she pulls him closer by the belt loops on his jeans, and tucks it into his front pocket herself. 

Sam’s eyes prick, his throat closing up, anger and shame crashing into him all at once. He watches as Dean says something to her, and then Liz smiles widely one last time, like the cure for cancer was just revealed to her, and waltzes away. Dean stands there, looking after her, and that’s when he sees Sam, standing there on the path.

Sam tries to wipe his face blank. Fuck Dean if he thinks he’ll see how much this affects him. Fuck him. Fuck the fact that Dean will talk to any girl who looks at him but won’t sleep with Sam. And fuck high school. Fuck all the morons who go to this high school. But most of all, fuck Liz, and her long hair and blue eyes and hands that think they can touch Dean in any way, shape, or form.

Fuck Liz. She can go die in a hole, for all Sam cares.

Sam walks up to Dean. “Ready to go?” he asks, tone sharper than he means it to be. “I’m starving. Let’s eat when we get home.”

Dean looks at Sam, his eyebrows raised. “Where were you at lunch? Everything okay?”

“I was busy,” Sam snaps, starting to walk down the main road towards the house. “And I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. I just thought…” he trails off, but must decide better of it, because he doesn’t continue.

They walk the rest of the way in silence.

__

By the time Sam gets home, he’s fuming. He knows Dean notices, but neither of them says a word about it the whole walk home. Sam throws his backpack down by the door and heads to the stairs, unable to stop himself from stomping on the hardwood floors.

The front door closes behind him as he reaches the steps, but he doesn’t bother to look back at Dean.

“Sam,” Dean calls from behind him. Sam ignores him, going up the first step with a loud smack of his shoes. “Sam! What the hell! What’s wrong?”

Sam whirls around. “What’s _wrong_? You want to know what’s _wrong_ , Dean?” Dean winces, but Sam ignores it. “Fuck you, Dean. Really, fuck you. I can’t believe you!” Sam turns back around and continues stomping up the stairs. Dean’s footsteps follow, but Sam doesn’t have it in him to turn around. “Go away, Dean.”

“Not until you tell me what bit you in the ass.”

“Fuck off!”

“No! You can’t get pissed at me all of a sudden and not tell me what I did!” Dean grabs Sam’s wrist as they reach the landing, forcing Sam to turn. Dean’s green eyes are blown out, his face searching. “Tell me,” he begs. “Please.”

Sam shakes his head. “Why don’t you go call Liz and talk to her instead? I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.” 

This catches Dean by surprise, enough so that Sam can free his wrist and continue stomping toward his bedroom. 

“You can’t be serious,” Dean says from behind him, continuing to follow. Sam finally reaches his bedroom and moves to slam the door, but Dean throws a hand up to stop him before he can. “You can’t be serious! This is ridiculous!”

“Why is it ridiculous?” Sam shouts, going deeper into his room, starting to pace in anger. “Every time Dad throws you in school, you always find some girl to fuck the time away. Looks like some habits never die, huh?” Sam glares as Dean as he stops in the center of the room and crosses his arms over his chest. His rage simmers just below his skin, and he can’t seem to turn it off. He’s so pissed at Dean he could hit him.

“How can you say that?” Dean says, his voice beginning to rise. “Do you honestly think I’d do that? Just go hook up with someone, after… after everything?”

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty,” Sam snaps. “I won’t let you get off with me because you won’t fuck me. It’s been over a week. I know you can’t take it! And now you’re letting that Liz girl hang all over you like you’re the last guy on the planet with a working dick! Are you just going to go back to fucking half the student body now that you can’t have me?”

“Jesus Christ, Sam! Of course not!” Dean rubs his face in frustration. “That Liz girl? She’s nothing! I’ve been trying to get these girls to leave me alone all day! First in study hall, and then—”

“ _Girls_?” Sam cuts in, “plural? So that’s what happened in study hall!” Sam turns away from Dean, too angry to even look at him.

“Sam! Will you fucking hear me out for one goddamn minute!” When Sam doesn’t answer, Dean continues. “This is crazy! I can’t believe you’re jealous when I’ve told you before how much you mean to me!”

He pauses, but Sam doesn’t turn around or answer. He can’t think of anything except Dean accepting Liz’s number, or letting her touch his arm. 

“Sam, you’re _it_. Don’t you get that? You’re _it_ for me. You are the only one who I see myself with, the only one who I trust, the only one who I would give my life for ten times over. There is no one,” he says, his voice cracking, and Sam can’t help but turn around now, “ _no one_ , that I want to be with but you.”

Sam looks at his older brother, his anger beginning to ebb. 

“The fact that you actually think anyone at that moronic school means one bit to me is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” Dean says, his hands in fists by his side. 

“Then why the hell do you have that girl’s number in your pocket?” Sam asks, refusing to give in to this, to Dean, before he knows. “Why did you let that girl put her hands all over you?”

“Number?” Dean asks, scoffing, pulling out the paper in his pocket. “She was writing down the address of the local library for a study session or some shit.” He let the paper flutter to the ground. “Which there is no way in hell that will happen, since I’m in no way interested in her, and when have you ever seen me study!”

“Why was she touching you.”

“Because it was harmless! Her hands on me felt like a goddamn wall touching me! It felt like absolutely nothing, not _anywhere near_ like it does with you. Why can’t you just trust me?” Dean shouts, tugging on his hair with a hand.

“Because you won’t fuck me!” Sam says, hot tears beginning to spill down his cheeks, stepping closer to Dean. His chest feels overloaded, like it might break open with the force of this helpless feeling. “So how am I supposed to know that you won’t just get off somewhere else?”

Dean lowers his arms, taking a deep breath. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I love you, Sam. So much that sometimes, I think it’ll drive me crazy. To think that one day you might wake up and realize that what we’re doing is fucked up. Or that you might outgrow me. Realize that you can do anything with your life and leave me behind.” Dean shakes his head and steps closer to Sam, raising a hand and wiping away a streak of tears on Sam’s cheek before dropping it. “You’re it. I can’t ever be with anyone else. There’s only you.”

“Then show me!” Sam shouts, tears continuing to fall, his frustration and sadness and anger escaping after days of holding it in. He clenches his jaw, refusing to back down. “Then show me,” he says, quieter this time, stepping closer. “I want you to show me.” His voice cracks as he struggles to hold in a sob, barely able to stop it. Dean’s eyes are pained, but he doesn’t look away as Sam steps close enough to hear Dean’s ragged breathing, to feel it along his face. He puts his hand on Dean’s cheek, feeling the slight stubble against his palm, and presses their foreheads together. “Please, Dean.”

Dean isn’t moving an inch, his eyes so clearly fighting not to close as Sam raises his other hand to lie on Dean’s neck. Sam can practically feel Dean’s thoughts racing, a battle waging behind his conflicted expression. Sam can see him struggling: Dean’s heart stutters where their chests are pressed together. His breath hitches as Sam begins to move his thumb across Dean’s cheekbone. He swallows heavily as a small sound escapes Sam’s lips as he continues to cry.

“If you really mean what you said, then just _be_ with me, Dean! I want you so much it hurts. It hurts so goddamn much.” Sam takes in a shaky breath. _"Please_ ,” he says, his voice small as he practically begs Dean to finally, _finally_ give in. “I need you, Dean. _Show me _that you want me. _Show me._ ”__

__A moment passes. Then another. For a heart stopping moment, Sam thinks that Dean will pull away, apologize again for not being able to give in. If that happens, Sam doesn’t know what he’ll do. He might leave this house. He might never talk to Dean again. His cheeks are wet from crying, but he doesn’t dare move to wipe them away._ _

__Another moment, and then and then and then—_ _

__“Fuck it,” Dean whispers, and his hands come up to take Sam by his cheeks, and then their lips are crashing together, rough lips on salty, wet ones. Sam’s tears continue to fall, but in knee-buckling relief, and he can only sigh as Dean takes him in his arms, pressing their bodies together. Sam feels Dean’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip, and he parts his mouth and clutches Dean’s neck as he tastes him for the first time in days._ _

__“You’re it,” Dean murmurs when they come up for air, moving his hands to Sam’s waist, fisting his shirt tightly. Sam shivers as Dean’s cheek brushes against his own, the scratch of facial hair and soft press of his lips echoing to every part of his body. Sam leans his face into Dean’s, closing his eyes, savoring the feel of his brother. “My Sammy,” Dean sighs._ _

__Their lips meet again, deep but unhurried, hard but not frantic. Sam wants to feel every moment of this, and as Dean’s tongue dips into his mouth again, tracing dizzying patterns, he knows Dean feels the same._ _

__Dean’s hands drift downwards, over Sam’s ass, across his thighs. He squeezes, and Sam gives a little jump, crossing his legs around Dean’s waist. Sam moans softly into Dean’s mouth as his hardening cock is pressed between their bodies, and Dean gives an answering growl._ _

__Suddenly Sam is carried out of the room, and Sam reluctantly pulls his mouth away to lean his forehead against Dean’s, breathing heavily. “Where are we going?”_ _

__“My room,” Dean says, voice rough. “My bed is bigger,” he grins, and Sam smiles as he nuzzles his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, kissing the heated skin there._ _

__When they reach the room, Dean lays Sam gently on the center of the bed, hovering over him as he presses a soft kiss to Sam’s lips. Sam closes his eyes as he feels Dean’s lips trace lightly down his jaw and to his ear, arching his back slightly as Dean’s mouth closes over the lobe. The wet heat of Dean’s tongue flickering over his sensitive skin sends shivers throughout his body, straight to his cock, which hardens even further._ _

__Dean moves further down, his lips grazing Sam’s neck. He can hear Dean inhaling his scent as he moves across his skin, pressing soft kisses all along his neck and down the curve where his shoulder begins. Goose bumps rise in every place Dean’s mouth touches, with every wet swipe of Dean’s tongue on his skin. Sam clutches Dean’s back, pulling him closer, threading his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. His erection throbs in his jeans, aching for some sort of friction, and when he bucks his hips upwards, Dean pulls away, looking down at him._ _

__“Sammy,” Dean whispers, almost to himself, his eyes moving across Sam’s body. Sam’s cheeks warm at the attention, but he doesn’t look away from Dean, taking in the way his chest moves up and down with heavy breaths, his beautiful form as he sits back on his heels. His mouth is parted, his tongue tracing his own lip as he continues to look at Sam._ _

__“What?” Sam says softly, raising his arms to lie above his head._ _

__Dean groans as Sam stretches himself out beneath him. “This is going to be… hard.”_ _

__“What is?” Sam’s heartbeat picks up inside his chest._ _

__“Holding back,” Dean answers, leaning down again to kiss Sam, his tongue immediately finding Sam’s. “Do you know how long I’ve imagined finally doing this?” he asks, his hand slipping beneath the hem of Sam’s t-shirt. The warmth and scratch of callouses on his fingertips makes Sam gasp, arching his back into Dean’s touch despite himself. Was it only this morning that he imagined this same thing?_ _

__“N-no,” Sam breathes, if only to hear Dean tell him in detail. “Tell me.”_ _

__“It’s fucked up,” Dean says into his ear, and he shivers. “I think you were twelve the first time I realized I loved you… as more than just my brother.” Sam digs his fingers into the sheets as Dean’s hand travels further across his abdomen, his whole body growing impossibly hot. “I pushed it down at first,” Dean continues, his tongue darting out to lick just below Sam’s jaw. “But you would catch me off guard, Sammy, and I swear to God it was like you were _trying_ to make me break.”_ _

__“I wasn’t,” Sam whispers, tilting his head back in a silent plea for Dean to continue his assault on his neck._ _

__“Hmm,” Dean hums, biting down softly near Sam’s Adam’s apple, causing him to cry out. Dean releases the skin and kisses it before moving on. “It didn’t take long for me to start imagining you when I touched myself,” Dean goes on, the hand on Sam’s chest brushing the place just below his nipple, drawing out a whimper from his mouth. “It was so wrong, and I hated myself for it.” Dean’s thumb swipes across the hardening nub, and Sam bites his lip. “I hated myself, but I couldn’t stop.”_ _

__“I’m glad you didn’t,” Sam says just as Dean’s fingers close around his nipple, applying a dizzying amount of pressure. Sam moans, his back arching. “D-Dean,” he gasps, struggling not to moan again as Dean squeezes harder._ _

__“And then that day when you got hard just because of a little touch from me,” Dean says quietly, his hand moving to Sam’s other nipple, “a million things ran through my head all at once. I needed to have you, Sammy. All of you.”_ _

__Sam’s head is spinning with pleasure, but he still makes out a question. “Why didn’t you?” he breathes, panting heavily. “Why wait?”_ _

__Dean removes his hand from Sam’s chest and motions for Sam to sit up, effortlessly taking off his shirt. Dean takes his off in turn, tossing both somewhere off to the side, lost to the expanse of the room. His green eyes trail down over Sam’s bare torso, then up again to look him in the eye. Sam takes in Dean, the hard muscle on his abdomen rippling as he moves to cup Sam’s cheek, pulling him in for a kiss._ _

__“It’s a line I was afraid to cross,” Dean finally says when their lips part, his gaze unwavering. “I… I still am, Sammy. Afraid. That this is too far. What if I hurt you?” He swallows heavily, and Sam’s chest pangs. “We can never go back.”_ _

__“I don’t want to,” Sam says, sitting up more and placing his hands on Dean’s skin, tracing them across the smoothness of his chest, down his abs, until he reaches the waistband of his jeans. He unbuttons the first button. “You said you loved me.” The second button opens. “That I’m it for you.” The last button frees._ _

__“You are,” Dean replies firmly, no hesitation in his voice. “I do.”_ _

__Sam nods. “We’re more than brothers,” he says. “You know that. This isn’t some thing. It was _meant_ to happen. We were always meant to happen.” He looks up into Dean’s eyes. “So I don’t want to go back. Everything that I’ve done with you, I could never regret.” He tries to convey this belief, his every emotion, into one look. “And I know more than anything that you could never hurt me. Not on purpose, anyway.” He grins, his heart stuttering as Dean smiles back. “Okay?”_ _

__Dean nods, his eyes wide, and rises from his heels to clumsily take off his jeans and discard them. When Sam chuckles, he’s pushed back down onto the bed, his lips kissed hungrily, his senses overcome by the force of Dean’s soft mouth on his. Dean’s hands fumble across Sam’s jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them down over Sam’s ass as best as can as Sam is pushed further into the mattress. Dean throws them over the side of the bed without breaking the kiss, and palms Sam’s rock hard member over his briefs._ _

__Sam moans into Dean’s mouth, his mouth opening slightly as his cock finally receives some friction. Dean only licks inside his mouth, their tongues tangling as Sam pushes his hips into his older brother’s hand._ _

__Eventually Dean breaks away, kissing his way wetly down Sam’s neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. When Sam feels Dean’s lips move over his chest, he whines, grabbing Dean by his hair to stop him._ _

__“W-wait,” he says, feeling his face grow hot as he realizes what he’s actually about to ask for._ _

__But Dean grins, seeming to guess right away. “You want me to suck them?” he asks roughly, glancing at Sam’s erect nipples then back up. Sam’s blush deepens as he sees the amusement in Dean’s eyes._ _

__“Shut up,” Sam mutters, looking away. But then he feels a hot wetness enclose over his nipple, and he can’t help but throw his head back and tighten his fingers in Dean’s hair, crying out. “Fuck,” he moans, his toes curling. “Fuck, Dean, _yes_.”_ _

__Dean’s hand continues to rub him over his boxers. “You’re already leaking so much,” he says, releasing Sam’s nipple with a kiss, his voice thick. Sam looks down, and sure enough, the front of his briefs are beginning to dampen from his pre-come. His gut feels hot, heat spreading to every inch of his body, the sensation already beginning to build. Before Sam can answer, Dean pulls his other nipple into his mouth, biting down around the nub softly. The slight pain transforms almost instantly to a blinding pleasure, and Sam can only whimper as Dean sucks._ _

__Then Dean is moving again, kissing the nipple one last time before continuing his path downwards. He kisses the small birthmark on Sam’s left ribcage, causing him to shiver. He licks a wet line down the center of his stomach, and Sam’s whole body shudders at the sensation._ _

__He reaches Sam’s briefs, and Sam raises his hips expectantly, waiting for them to be taken off. But instead, before Sam realizes what he’s doing, Dean takes Sam’s cock into his mouth through the fabric of his briefs. Sam yelps in pleasure at the roughness of his briefs rubbing across his member mingling with the wetness of Dean’s tongue. He glances down and almost comes right there at the sight of Dean sucking him through his underwear; Dean’s tongue slips in and out of his mouth as he moves across Sam, his lips kissing and grabbing, drawing Sam closer and closer to the edge._ _

__“Oh g-god,” Sam pants, his hips shuddering as Dean’s tongue makes a particularly wet swipe up his shaft. His head falls back onto the mattress, his eyes closing as sparks of pleasure shoot through his body. “D-Dean, I’m gonna c-come,” he gasps, struggling to hold on as long as possible. “P-please,” he begs, but he doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. For Dean to slow? To keep going? He hardly even cares, and then he feels the scrape of Dean’s teeth on the head of his cock, and he shouts out Dean’s name just as he climaxes, his body trembling, finger’s knotted tightly in the fabric of the sheets._ _

__Sam pants as he comes down from his high, his body still unsteady as Dean releases him. “And your briefs aren’t even off yet,” Dean chuckles, kissing Sam chastely on the lips. “Are we done for the day?”_ _

__Sam frowns, opening his eyes to glare at Dean. “Don’t even joke,” Sam orders, grabbing Dean around the neck and pulling him down to his mouth, kissing him roughly. “You’re fucking me today. Right now.” He kisses him again, swirling his tongue around Dean’s, and Dean groans softly, a sound that emits straight from his throat. “Understand?”_ _

__In response, Dean’s fingers hook into the waistband of Sam’s briefs and tugs at them, and Sam can only comply as he raises his hips to allow easy access. When they’re gone, Dean’s mouth returns to Sam’s body, kissing him along his inner thighs, biting down on the sensitive area. Sam moans as Dean moves closer and closer inwards, his thighs beginning to shake and his still sensitive cock hardening once again._ _

__But instead of Dean touching his cock like Sam expected, he suddenly feels Dean’s mouth on his ass, kissing the cheeks before raising Sam’s thighs slightly and licking a line right between them._ _

__“Fuck!” Sam shouts, bucking his hips as Dean’s tongue circles over his hole. He whimpers loudly as his thighs are spread further apart, Dean’s warm hands on both legs, just below his ass. “D-Dean,” he moans as his older brother’s tongue pushes its way inside of him. “So good,” he pants. “Feels s-so g-good.”_ _

__Dean’s tongue pulses inside him, moving in a way that causes Sam’s head to feel light and his cock to twitch where it lies on his stomach. He cries out as a dizzying pressure starts to build; he moans Dean’s name, his legs quaking, his hand moving to dig into Dean’s hair._ _

__Then suddenly, Dean’s mouth has left, and Sam whines at the loss of contact. But he’s sharply cut off as Dean hovers over him again and kisses him on the mouth. “Suck,” he tells Sam, holding his middle and index fingers by Sam’s mouth, brushing them lightly over his lips._ _

__Sam doesn’t hesitate, taking them into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the digits. He looks Dean in the eye as he does it, enjoying how Dean’s eyes widen when he doesn’t look away, swiping his tongue over every inch of Dean’s fingers. He savors the taste of Dean’s skin, allowing himself to moan in pleasure._ _

__Dean takes his fingers out slowly, and Sam keeps his tongue on his skin until they leave completely. Covered in Sam’s wetness, Dean lowers them to Sam’s hole, tracing it lightly with one of his digits. As he enters his index finger, he kisses Sam, who gives a loud moan into Dean’s mouth as he feels the finger enter him. A slight pain accompanies the pleasure, just like it had the first time, or when he touched himself, but as Dean’s tongue grazes over his own, the pleasure overcomes the pain, and he begins to move his hips downwards, feeling himself relax to Dean._ _

__“Okay?” Dean asks, moving to kiss Sam’s neck. Sam can only nod, biting his lip as Dean’s finger moves in farther. “I love you,” Dean whispers, his teeth grazing over the shell of his ear. “With everything I am.” Sam gasps as Dean’s finger goes in all the way, his head pressing into the pillows as he arches his neck._ _

__His finger pulls out, then is plunged back into him slowly, hooking inside of him to reach a spot that sends electricity through Sam’s entire body. He whimpers loudly, his head tossed to the side, as Dean’s finger goes in and out of him, stretching him out, opening him up._ _

__“M-more,” Sam gasps, bucking his hips in time with Dean’s finger inside him. Dean hums in Sam’s ear, and when he pulls out his index finger, he enters with a second, causing Sam to cry out. There is more pain this time, but it fades away quickly as his fingers go in deeper, continuing to move inside of him. Sam feels how Dean touches him, deliberately touching places that make him moan in pleasure, and with each touch, he loosens further. “Dean,” he whimpers. “So fucking good, Dean.”_ _

__“You like when I’m inside of you, Sammy?” Dean asks, and Sam nods frantically. “I’ll give you more,” he says, kissing him softly. “Soon, I’ll give you so much more.”_ _

__Dean’s fingers continue to move, and Sam knows that if Dean continues like this, he’ll be thrown over the edge too soon. “Now, Dean,” he whispers, his breathing heavy and rough. “I’m ready now.” He takes Dean’s face in his hand and nods, biting his lip as Dean’s fingers begin to pull out slowly._ _

__They stare at each other, then. Sam looks up at Dean, his thumb tracing over the curve of Dean’s cheek, absorbing the way Dean looks at him in the way that makes it seem as if nothing can ever tear him away. Dean leans down and kisses Sam, gently at first, slipping his tongue in only barely. But Sam deepens it, opening his mouth wider, pulling Dean closer by his cheek, wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist and pulling him down so their hips collide with one another’s. He wants Dean so completely, so utterly, and he wants him right now. No more waiting or denying themselves. No more questioning or doubting. Sam wants Dean, all of him. And there is no more reason to wait._ _

__Dean gives a deep moan into Sam’s mouth as Sam bucks upwards, feeling how hard Dean is beneath his briefs. He feels Dean adjust as he reaches for something next to the bed; a drawer clatters open, and a rummaging sound emits as Dean searches for something. Then the drawer closes, and Dean breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead firmly against Sam’s._ _

__“Sam,” he says, his voice merely a ragged breath, soft and airy. “Sammy, are you—”_ _

__“Don’t ask that,” Sam interrupts, crossing his arms over Dean’s neck, kissing him lightly on the nose. He releases his legs from Dean’s waist to hook his toes beneath Dean’s briefs, and pushes them down with his feet, over Dean’s ass and down his legs, slowly but effectively. Dean kicks them off without breaking eye contact. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he whispers. “You don’t need to ask. The answer won’t ever change.”_ _

__“God,” Dean says, loosing a breath, closing his eyes. But he nods, and then Sam hears a crinkle of what must be…_ _

__“What are you doing?” Sam asks, biting down on a smile. “Is that… a condom?”_ _

__Dean freezes and nods again, bringing it up to show Sam. “Y-yeah, is that… okay?” he asks, swallowing heavily, eyes wide._ _

__Sam can’t help but laugh. “Dean, I swallowed your come.”_ _

__Dean chokes, his eyes growing even wider as he looks as Sam. “You… I just thought…” he stutters awkwardly, and Sam tries hard not to laugh again. “I didn’t think you would want me to come inside of you,” he says quietly, and by some crazy fluke, Sam watches as Dean blushes._ _

__“We’re both safe,” Sam points out, grinning madly. “And I want to feel you completely. I don’t care if you… come inside.”_ _

__Dean nods. “Okay,” he says, licking his lips, and then he tosses the condom over the side of the bed. Sam laughs._ _

__But the laugh fades as Sam hears the click of a bottle lid opening, and Dean reclaims his usual devilish grin as he shows Sam what’s now in his hand._ _

__“It’ll hurt without it,” he says, showing him the bottle of lube. “It feels good. Trust me.” Sam nods, his mouth suddenly dry, his cock twitching in anticipation. Then Sam gasps as something cold is put on his hole, and his body trembles as he struggles to get used to it. “It’ll warm up,” Dean says, his fingers brushing over the lube he applied, moving it over Sam until it _is_ warmed up, almost hot, and Sam relaxes into the feeling. _ _

__Sam watches Dean’s face in awe as Dean begins to stroke his own cock, rubbing lube onto himself in slow movements, biting his lip. Sam runs his hands down Dean’s back, scraping his nails lightly across the muscles, and Dean shivers, kissing Sam hard as he releases a groan._ _

__“Sammy?” Dean whispers, and Sam feels the head of Dean’s cock press against his entrance. He spreads his legs further, clutching Dean’s neck tightly._ _

__“Do it,” Sam replies, looking Dean in the eyes._ _

__And then Dean pushes in, just a bit, enough for Sam to gasp, his eyes closing, his back arching as he feels Dean for the first time. Dean leans down to kiss Sam’s neck, their bare chests pressed together, sucking on a spot below his ear. Dean stops, allowing Sam to adjust to him before he goes in further. Sam has never felt like this before; it feels like it did with Dean’s fingers, but amplified, like he’s fuller than he’s ever been._ _

__“K-keep going,” Sam bites out, trying to move his hips. “God, Dean, go deeper,” he begs, “please.”_ _

__And so Dean does; Sam feels Dean’s hips move, and then his cock moves further into Sam. Sam cries out, pleasure exploding into his gut, behind his eyelids, any pain he may be feeling being completely overridden by waves of intoxicating heat._ _

__“Feels good?” Sam hears Dean whisper in his ear, the lowness of his voice causing Sam to shiver._ _

__“You’re so b-big,” Sam gasps as Dean pushes in another inch, whimpering without any semblance of control. “I feel so f-full.”_ _

__Dean moves again, even further, and kisses Sam passionately. “Shit,” he gasps, looking down between their bodies. Sam follows his gaze and sees that Dean is all the way in now, his cock completely buried in his body. “You’re so fucking tight, Sammy,” he says, his voice heated and rough. “So fucking good,” he groans._ _

__Sam only whimpers in response, the feeling of Dean’s dick inside him all at once dizzying and scorching. Dean is unmoving inside of him, probably still allowing Sam to adjust. His fingers dig into Dean’s back. “Move,” he says, arching his back into Dean. He’s ready for more. “Oh god, _move_ , Dee.”_ _

__Dean pulls out of him, almost completely, before thrusting back in, slowly but forcefully._ _

__“ _Ahh!_ ” Sam shouts, his arms tightening around Dean. The pressure of Dean’s cock inside of him… he craves it. He needs _more_. “F-faster,” he pants, rolling his hips to meet Dean’s slow thrusts. He buries his face into Dean’s neck, squeezing his eyes shut as Dean continues to move inside of him. He feels him deep, so deep, and yet somehow it’s not enough. “Fas— oh god!” he practically screams as Dean slams into him, faster than before, and the amount of bright red heat that erupts in Sam’s gut almost makes him come on the spot._ _

__“My Sammy,” Dean says into Sam’s ear, thrusting into him again. “You’re everything,” another thrust, “everything to me. No one,” a deeper thrust, and they both cry out, “No one will ever be as important as you.”_ _

__Sam feels so good, so goddamn happy that he can’t even reply; so he holds onto Dean with everything he has, tighter and tighter, his body continuing to grow hot as Dean moves inside of him. His cock is trapped between them, inadvertently stroked every time Dean pushes inside of him. The feeling is almost too much. Sam’s chest feels full to bursting, and he lets out a sob as Dean increases their rhythm._ _

__But then Dean slows, grabbing Sam’s head to pull him back so they are face to face. Dean’s hand brushes his cheek, and it isn’t until then that Sam realizes he’s crying._ _

__Dean stills completely, his eyes wide. “Are you— Are you okay?” Dean asks, tone frantic. He begins to pull out, but Sam holds him fast._ _

__“D-don’t stop,” he begs, pulling Dean to him, wrapping his arms tight over his back, crossing his legs over Dean’s waist. The angle pushes Dean in further, and he shudders. “I’m just… I love you so much, Dean,” Sam whispers, closing his eyes, smiling. “Fuck, I just love you. Okay? So much.”_ _

__He opens his eyes, and Dean is looking at him in bewilderment, still tracing his face. “Forever,” Dean whispers, kissing Sam long and gently. A simple kiss on the lips. “I won’t ever stop being by your side. No matter what.”_ _

__Sam nods. “I know.”_ _

__“I know you know,” Dean says, and begins to move again. “But I’ll still show you, just like you asked.”_ _

__Dean thrusts deep into Sam, slower and yet so much more than before. Sam’s legs tighten around Dean as he feels himself stretch out, moaning and whimpering with each movement of Dean’s hips. He lets himself go, focusing solely on the weight of Dean on top of him, the pressure and depth of Dean’s cock inside of him, the building heat in his gut. He stops trying to control his reactions, begging Dean to keep going, to go harder, that he will never let Dean go no matter what._ _

__Dean grazes his ear as they chase their release, whispering to Sam how he realized his love for him all those years ago, the ache that built in his chest that didn’t release until he realized Sam felt the same. How the ache returned when Sam refused to be with Dean anymore. Sam feels another tear slide down his cheek as Dean tells him all of this and more, clutching each other tightly, neither brother releasing their hold for an instant._ _

__When Sam comes, Dean kisses him so slowly it’s like a caress in and of itself. Dean follows soon after, his hips stilling as he empties himself within Sam, and Sam closes his eyes in ecstasy as he feels Dean’s come deep inside of him, heating him up from the inside out._ _

__Dean pulls out slowly, and Sam trembles as Dean’s length leaves his body. Dean collapses at Sam’s side and pulls him close, nuzzling his face into Sam’s hair, wrapping his arms across Sam’s back. Sam burrows into Dean’s warmth, inhaling his scent, kissing him softly on his chest._ _

__They lay in comfortable silence for a while, their hearts seeming to beat in sync as they breathe in and out, their chests knocking together. Eventually, Dean tilts Sam’s head back and kisses him, sucking along his bottom lip, dipping his tongue gently into his mouth._ _

__“That was amazing,” Sam blurts as Dean pulls away, then bites his lip. “That was probably the corniest thing ever, huh?” He shakes his head, burrowing it back into Dean’s chest. His heart speeds up as Dean laughs, the sound vibrating all along Sam’s body._ _

__“I don’t think so,” Dean chuckles, kissing the top of Sam’s head. “I think the corniest thing would be: I never want to leave the inside of your ass ever again.”_ _

__“Dean!” Sam laughs, smacking him on the shoulder. A pause. “Yeah, that was cornier.” Dean chuckles along with him._ _

__“I kinda meant it, though,” Dean admits, and Sam only smiles wider._ _

__Another few moments go by, Sam grinning into Dean’s neck, Dean tracing invisible lines down Sam’s shoulder blades, back and forth, back and forth. He shivers as goose bumps rise on his skin. He feels elated. Complete. His cheeks heat up as he thinks this, for being so cheesy, but it’s true. The past week melts away: the arguments, the frustration, the anger at Dean and the feeling of helplessness. It fades, until all he feels is the trace of Dean inside his body and the beautiful ache starting to develop in his thighs. He closes his eyes and simply _exists_ , feeling like the luckiest person in the world to be there, next to his older brother._ _

__“I meant everything I said,” Dean whispers eventually, just as Sam is beginning to drift off into sleep. Sam leans back to look as Dean’s face; his lips are upturned into the smallest of smiles, his green eyes bright, as if finally realizing he can do anything in the world. Sam lifts a hand to trace the spattering of freckles across his cheeks._ _

__“I know,” Sam says, “So did I.” His fingertips move across the bridge of Dean’s nose. “And by the way,” he adds, kissing Dean gently on the lips. “You’re it for me, too.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are satisfied, at least until next week. I WILL WRITE TO MEET THE DEADLINE LIKE MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT! And also, if you felt like the sex was a little lacking in *sexiness,* please don't worry. I wanted their first time to be sweet, ya know?. The steamy sex will come soon. I promise. I've got some plans with a capital P. *evil laughter*  
> Until next time! Don't forget to leave a kudos, and especially a comment! I love hearing from you guys, you are all so sweet!  
> DancesWithFiends xoxo


	8. Changes In Mindset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day after Sam and Dean have went all the way, and both brothers are happy in their own right. Not much to explain except that this is a chapter filled with happiness and... exploration, shall we say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to The Good Days! It's after 5am and I've been up all night finishing up this chapter *just for you.* If I'm being honest, I literally couldn't fall asleep with this chapter unfinished. I had so many thoughts, and just couldn't stop thinking about it! I really hope you all like this chapter. I think it may be the smuttiest one yet... but don't hold me to that. But there is a lot of smut. Like, a *lot.* I won't even give you any hints, because I'd rather you be surprised :)
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy! Oh, and my Sam/Dean playlist will be listed at the end of the chapter, just like I promised!

Pale moonlight streams in through the curtains, illuminating only hints of the bedroom, swathing everything it touches in a cool, white hue. Dean watches as the light shifts over Sam’s sleeping form, his upturned face made pale, his small shoulders curled up by his ears. Light brown hair sweeps in a messy tumble over Sam’s forehead. Dean listens to his deep breathing, tracing fingertips lightly up his little brother’s bare thigh, across his hip, over his arm, until he reaches Sam’s face, where he brushes stray strands of hair away from his closed eyes. He traces gentle fingers over Sam’s lips, down the bridge of his nose, across the curve of his cheeks. He can’t seem to stop touching Sam, and his breath hitches as Sam shifts in his sleep, moving closer to Dean’s body. His heart gallops in his chest, and he wonders how Sam elicits these reactions from him when he isn’t even awake to do it.

It must be the dead of night, Dean thinks to himself. They had fallen asleep in the late afternoon, wrapped around each other, legs tangled, breaths mingling, their sticky skin pressed together in the sheets. Dean had been sated, so beyond replete that he couldn’t even form a coherent thought as unconsciousness dragged him under, his only focus being Sam’s weight against his chest. 

Now, his thoughts are racing, flashes of Sam’s naked body as he pushed into him for the first time seemingly the only thing he can think of. Not that Dean particularly minds. In fact, he far from minds. He replays the moment when Sam had pressed his face into the crook of his neck, his soft sob-like noises muffled as Dean moved inside of him. Their first time had been more than anything Dean had ever imagined it would be; it was exhilarating, intimidating, slow and sweet. And Dean curses himself for how long it took him to finally allow it to happen. 

But now that it has, Dean can’t help but push aside every worry or concern that may have prevented him in the first place. Sam has washed away everything, every doubt that he might have had, and filled the space with something indescribable. It sits right in the center of Dean’s chest, and he can’t get enough of it. It’s heady and all consuming, and Sam’s the cause. The beautiful, stunning cause.

Sam moves again, his eyes moving less rapidly beneath his eyelids; he must be on the verge of waking. Dean leans in and softly presses a kiss to each eyelid, inhaling the scent that emits from Sam’s hair. He smells like the scented soap they bought a few days ago, and faintly of sweat. It should be an ordinary smell, yet it’s intoxicating to Dean. His eyes close as Sam sighs, his head moving to press against Dean’s chest. He wraps his arms loosely around Sam’s small form, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“G’morning,” Dean hears, the sound muffled, Sam’s lips brushing against Dean’s skin as they move. Dean chuckles as he tightens his arms around Sam.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Dean whispers back, nuzzling his cheek playfully into Sam’s scalp, the hair beginning to stick up in all directions. 

Sam laughs, squirming in Dean’s embrace. “Quit it,” Sam whines jokingly, voice still thick with sleep, and when he looks up, Dean can’t help but loose a breath at the wide grin splayed on Sam’s face. 

Dean can’t stop from smiling in response. “Good morning,” he concedes, leaning in close. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” Sam says, his eyes shining conspiratorially. 

“Oh yeah?” Dean says, chuckling. He pokes Sam in his side, and Sam cackles, struggling to no avail to get free. 

“I expected nothing less, if I’m being honest,” Sam eventually says, still wriggling around in Dean’s arms.

Now it’s Dean’s turn to laugh. “What does that mean?” he asks, his cheeks aching. But in a good way.

Sam looks back down at Dean’s chest, his eyes moving across the bare skin. His cheeks turn slightly pink, but instead of rescinding his words, he says, “well, only that…” he clears his throat. “You fucked me real good,” he says in a rush, and even from his vantage point, Dean can see Sam biting his lip.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, all the blood in his entire body racing downwards in an instant.

Sam nods, finally looking back up. Dean can’t help unweaving an arm from around Sam and moving it to gently free Sam’s lip from his teeth. He hears Sam’s breathing pick up, and Dean’s no doubt does the same.

The playful atmosphere from mere seconds ago melts away. Dean’s thoughts are now far from this innocent embrace, and he senses the same lust now radiating off Sam. “Did you like my cock inside of you?” Dean asks, voice low, tracing his thumb once again across Sam’s cheek. This time, Sam reacts obviously, his pupils dilating, his chest moving up and down in a rapid rhythm.

“Mmhm,” he nods, and Dean watches in satisfaction as Sam’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Better than your fingers,” he admits, eyes closing as Dean’s other hand starts to trail slowly down Sam’s back.

“Being inside you…” Dean says, his hand caressing lightly down Sam’s spine, “just thinking about it makes my head spin.” His hand reaches the curve of Sam’s ass, and he squeezes the taut skin gently in his palm.

Sam’s hot breath puffs against Dean’s chest. “M-me too,” Sam breathes, and as if proving it, Dean feels the hardness of Sam’s member press up against him, hot and firm. Dean growls in Sam’s ear, moving his thigh between Sam’s legs, and earns a gratifying moan.

“I want to fuck you again,” Dean whispers, grazing his lips across Sam’s, but not enough for a true kiss. Sam shivers, and Dean feels the goose bumps rise all along Sam’s back. “Do you want it, too?” he asks, and Sam lets out a little squeak as Dean’s tongue darts out and licks Sam’s bottom lip. “Do you want me?”

Sam doesn’t answer, instead leaning forward to kiss Dean properly. But before he can, Dean flips Sam around, so he’s on his other side, his back pressed up against Dean’s chest. 

Sam whines at the change. “What the hell?” he demands, trying to turn back around. But Dean holds fast, his hands firmly around Sam’s hips, preventing him from doing so.

“What if I fuck you like this?” Dean asks, his mouth at Sam’s neck, and Sam freezes, his breathing turning uneven and raspy. “Enter you from behind?” His lips trail to Sam’s shoulder, kissing it dryly. “Thrust into you as I stroke your dick…” Dean’s member hardens exponentially, and he has to take a breath. His mind begins to swim just imagining it.

“Dean,” Sam gasps, and he sees when Sam’s hand begins to move towards his crotch. But Dean grabs it by the wrist, then the other, and raises them above Sam’s head. Sam moans, both in frustration and obvious arousal. 

“I’m gonna touch you,” Dean rumbles, and places Sam’s hands behind his own neck. “Hold on here,” he instructs, releasing them. “But don’t move them anywhere else.” Dean can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine as Sam’s hands clasp on the nape of his neck, fingers digging into his hair.

“I want to touch you, too,” Sam begs, his voice shaking, hands tightening on Dean’s neck. Dean almost lets him free, the raw want in Sam’s tone overbearing. But instead he shakes his head.

“I’d rather make you feel good first,” Dean replies honestly. “I love seeing you undone.” And he does. The feeling Dean gets when he sees Sam completely blissed out… that in itself is as good as Sam touching him. The knowledge that Dean makes him feel that way… god, it’s everything,

Sam moans softly as Dean traces a hand down the side of Sam’s torso, his fingers brushing against goose bumps on smooth, warm skin. When he reaches Sam’s hip, he stops, pressing his nose into Sam’s neck. Sam arches his back, his ass pressing deliciously into Dean’s hard-on, causing him to groan. “Please,” Sam exhales.

“Tell me what you want, Sammy,” Dean says into his neck, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin there. “What do you want?”

“Dean,” Sam moans, “ _Dean,_ I need you to t-touch me.” He leans his head back, his whole body curving back into Dean’s, hands threading into Dean’s hair and pulling on it tight. Their legs knock together, and Dean can feel Sam’s toes curling against his calf. “I need you inside me. So bad, Dean. _Please._ ”

Dean’s hand finally moves from Sam’s hip, trailing inwards until he reaches the place where Sam’s cock twitches in anticipation. Sam’s breath snags, his head snapping down to look as Dean’s hand moves closer to where he knows Sam wants it. 

“Here?” Dean teases, his thumb brushing just slightly over the head. 

“Fuck,” Sam hisses, and Dean looks down over Sam’s shoulder to see pre-come already leaking from his cock. “Fuck, Dee, _yes,_ ” he whines, body trembling. His stomach moves up and down as he breathes heavily.

Dean chuckles, but he’s sharply cut off as Sam deliberately moves his ass back again, hitting Dean’s cock with intoxicating friction. “Shit,” Dean growls, his fingers curling next to Sam’s dick.

“Stop laughing,” Sam says between his teeth, “and fuck me already.”

Dean swallows, focusing on uncurling his hand and wrapping it around Sam’s length. Sam takes a sharp breath, his hands now squeezing Dean’s nape. “When’d you get so bossy?” Dean asks, his throat dry. His cock twitches; he’s so unbelievably turned on from Sam right now that he considers entering him right now, no preparation, in one go. Good thing he has more control than that.

Sam doesn’t bother answering, instead doing his best to thrust into Dean’s hand, nearly purring in pleasure. “Dean,” he moans, thighs trembling, kicking at the sheets uncontrollably, “fuck, oh god, oh god!” Dean wraps his other arm tight around Sam’s middle, holding him to his chest as he pumps him up and down.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, and bites down on Sam’s earlobe gently. “Want my cock now?”

“Give it to me,” Sam pants, and Dean can feel as Sam struggles to keep his hands clasped around Dean’s neck, trying not to move. But they continue to grasp at Dean, tighter and tighter, making Dean almost groan in desire. 

Dean removes his hand from Sam’s dick, and Sam cries out in frustration until Dean bites down on his neck, silencing him. He reaches blindly under his pillow, feeling around until his hand feels the familiar bottle of lube. He uncaps it with one hand, and squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers. He returns the bottle back under the pillow, already knowing he’ll need it many more times in the near future.

Sam yelps as Dean presses his slicked up fingers to his hole, smearing the lube along the space between his cheeks. “Cold,” Sam comments, his ass moving backwards to rub in time with Dean’s fingers.

Dean hums in agreement, sliding just a slight amount of his finger inside of Sam to apply the lube thoroughly. Sam gasps nonetheless, trying to push back to get him in further, but Dean takes it out before that can happen. Sam is ready enough from last time that he doesn’t need it.

“You aren’t very patient,” Dean points out, licking at Sam’s jaw.

“Fuck patience,” Sam bites out, unable to hold in a moan as Dean’s tongue travels further down Sam’s neck. Dean savors the taste of his skin, slightly salty with sweat.

“You taste good,” Dean murmurs, kissing Sam’s neck. 

“I’m getting annoyed now,” Sam says, moving to press his ass back on Dean’s dick again, but this time, Dean is ready, grabbing Sam’s hip firmly to stop him. Sam growls, fidgeting. “Not fair.”

“If you’re grinding against my cock,” Dean says softly, “I won’t be able to put it inside you.” He takes himself in his hand and strokes himself a few times before pressing up against Sam. Finally, Sam stops moving, utterly still as he awaits Dean to enter. “Remember not to move your hands,” Dean reminds. Then he grins. “No matter how good I fuck you.”

Before Sam can give an inevitable retort, Dean moves his hips, using a hand to guide himself into Sam’s hole. Any words Sam was about to say are swallowed up in a loud moan as the head of Dean’s dick enters him. The abrupt heat wrapping around Dean makes him groan, and he pushes in another few inches, pleasure building in his gut already.

“God, you’re still so tight,” Dean grunts, moving his hand back to Sam’s hip, the other still wrapped across Sam’s chest. Sam whimpers, back arching, his hips trembling as Dean continues to move in deeper. Then Dean stops, letting Sam adjust to him before going any further. He kisses Sam’s shoulder, his neck, his jaw. 

“K-keep going,” Sam says, tilting his head to the side, towards Dean. His hands press hard on the back of Dean’s neck, pushing him forward. Dean gets the point. He leans in and kisses Sam, swiping his tongue across his lips, and when Sam parts them, he tastes Sam’s tongue on his own. The kiss is messy from this angle, but Dean hardly cares. Sam moans into his mouth, and Dean takes the opportunity to push the rest of his length into Sam.

Sam breaks the kiss, gasping as Dean bottoms out, throwing his head back onto Dean’s shoulder. “You feel so good, baby brother,” Dean whispers, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in. Dean sees Sam bite his lip to stifle a loud moan, making his cock twitch deep inside of Sam. 

“Y-you—” Sam gasps, his hands loosening around Dean’s neck.

“Don’t move your hands,” Dean warns, nipping at Sam’s neck. “Keep ‘em there.” They tighten in response, pulling on his hair harder than before, and Dean groans. He thrusts again into Sam. “Fuck, Sammy,” he hisses.

“You got b-bigger,” Sam puffs, “inside me.” His hips begin to move in time with Dean’s thrusts, whimpering with each movement.

“You were biting your lip,” Dean growls, moving a hand down Sam’s thigh. “You can’t blame me.” He slips his fingers beneath Sam’s leg, pulling it up and back slightly, to hook around Dean’s hip.

“W-what are you— _ahh!_ ” Sam cuts himself off as Dean thrusts into him again, the angle causing Dean to go in deeper than before. Sam’s leg is thrown over Dean’s hip, his legs splayed open. 

Dean groans, his arm tightening across Sam’s chest, pulling Sam harder against his body. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, voice low. “So tight,” he whispers in Sam’s ear. “So good.”

Sam is a whimpering mess, and it only gets worse as Dean’s free hand moves to his nipple and tugs, worrying the erect nub. “Dean n-no, it’s too m-much!” Sam yelps as Dean’s fingers press harder around his nipple. “Feels t-too good, Dean! I’m g-gonna come!”

“Then come, Sammy,” Dean says softly, increasing their pace. He still restrains himself, though, even now. It’s difficult, but he does. He doesn’t trust himself not to hurt Sam if he goes too hard, and he fears Sam isn’t used to it. But it seems not to matter at all, because Sam is close to the edge, and Dean is right there with him. Sparks seem to travel up and down his body, his cock sliding in and out of Sam’s hole with intense warmth and wetness.

Sam’s hands grasp tightly at Dean’s nape, using his neck like an anchor as he arches his back to meet Dean’s thrusts with his ass. He moans and cries out, repeating Dean’s name over and over like a mantra. “Dean,” he huffs, emitting a sound like a sob as Dean’s hand brushes over his cock. “Dean, I’m so close.”

Dean goes even faster now, their skin producing soft slaps as they move together. “Me too,” he says, looking down to where their bodies connect. The sight causes Dean’s dick to twitch yet again, and he knows from Sam’s moan that he feels it inside of him.

“Dean,” Sam whimpers, his body beginning to grow rigid with the beginnings of his climax. Dean tightens his arms around him, kissing his neck as he thrusts inside of him once more, twice more, a third time before he comes, his body shaking as he empties himself within Sam. Sam cries out, coming with him, his arms moving down from Dean’s neck to clutch at Dean’s arms around him, his head tucked to his chest, legs quivering with the force of his climax. 

Dean continues to thrust shallowly until Sam’s orgasm is through, Sam’s hands relaxing slightly where they dig into Dean’s arms. Dean lets out a puff of air as he stills, his body feeling rubbery and weak. “Sammy,” he whispers, not bothering to even pull out of Sam yet. 

“You feel warm,” Sam says softly, his leg still around Dean’s hip. His body continues to tremble slightly, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. “Your come,” he clarifies. “Inside of me. Feels good.”

Dean bites down gently on Sam’s neck, sliding himself out of Sam’s hole. “You say things like that,” Dean says, “and I might just continue fucking you.”

Sam twists around to face Dean, and his arms wrap around Dean’s torso, sticky with sweat. “I wouldn’t mind that,” Sam mumbles, their legs tangling. Dean looks down at his little brother, taking in his droopy eyes and lazy smile.

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” Dean suggests, kissing Sam on the forehead. “School tomorrow, you know.”

Sam groans, banging his head against Dean’s chest. “Are you serious? You fuck me for the first time and expect me to go to school the next day?” He looks back up, and his eyes widen mockingly. “You’re a sadist.”

Dean laughs, this time kissing Sam deeply on the mouth, and Sam sighs appreciatively. “I guess we’ll just have to get in our fill now, huh?” he says against Sam’s lips.

“I’ll never get my fill of you,” Sam says softly. And oh, does Dean’s heart _soar._

__

Sam and Dean have a hard time getting out the door that morning.

It starts when Sam announces in the early hours of the morning that he’s taking a shower before school.

“I’ll join you,” Dean says, throwing back the blankets, and watches as Sam’s eyes widen. Dean grins. “That a problem?”

“No,” Sam says quickly, and Dean smiles wider. “I mean, whatever,” he shrugs, walking towards the door. “I’ll, uh, meet you… over there?” Sam looks back at Dean, his cheeks visibly red. 

Dean tries desperately to hold down his laughter. “Yeah,” he replies, “meet you over there.” Sam makes it to the door when Dean bursts out laughing, and only laughs harder when he hears Sam mumble a “shut up” as he walks out of the room.

It makes absolutely no sense to Dean. One minute, Sam could be whispering the filthiest things into Dean’s ear, and the next, his cheeks burn crimson when Dean mentions a shower. Dean shakes his head as he gets up from the bed, deciding not to figure it out right this moment. It amuses him, and if anything, makes him adore Sam all the more. It’s cute as hell when Sam gets flustered, and so fucking hot when he talks dirty. He’ll take Sam as he is.

Dean stretches in the morning sunlight, reaching his arms over his head, arching his back. He’s still naked, and he feels dried sweat covering him from the night before, along with dried something else along his stomach and legs. Maybe a shower is a good idea after all.

He leaves the bedroom, listening to the water running down the hall. He smiles as he reaches the bathroom, opening the door and closing it behind him quietly, steam surrounding him as he enters the room. He pulls out a towel from the cabinet and places it next to the one Sam must have laid out, his smile growing wider as a faint humming emits from behind the shower curtain, no doubt Sam trying to sing softly.

He pulls back the shower curtain just enough to slip in. Sam stands facing the spray of water, his hands in his hair as he washes out shampoo. Dean’s eyes trail up and down his wet body, lingering on his ass, the movement of his shoulder blades. He comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Sam’s torso.

“What are you singing?” Dean asks, the water spraying both of them now, the feel of Sam’s slick body against his all too good this early in the morning.

Sam leans back against Dean, his soapy hair falling onto Dean’s chest. “Nothing,” he says. “Just whatever.”

“Just whatever,” Dean echoes, his fingers splaying on Sam’s stomach, beginning to move upwards. 

“We should focus on washing,” Sam says softly, shivering as Dean’s fingers brush over his nipples. But they don’t linger; they continue moving upwards until they reach Sam’s shoulders, then to his neck.

“I am,” Dean replies, his fingers moving into Sam’s hair, rubbing into his scalp to work out the soap. “Let me do it.” 

Sam nods, allowing Dean to rinse out the shampoo from his hair. They are silent as Dean works, nothing but the sound of the water hitting the tub and their soft breathing. Sam trembles every now and then, tilting his head back and forth to guide Dean’s fingers. 

“Good?” Dean asks, the last of the shampoo trailing down the drain. Sam nods again, not making any move to wash the rest of him. 

So Dean reaches for the bar of soap next, foaming it up under the water before lowering it to Sam’s skin. Sam makes a small noise as Dean moves the soap across his stomach in lazy circles, over his chest, the sides of his torso. His head falls back again to lie against Dean’s shoulder, his eyes closing. 

Dean probably washes Sam’s upper body more than is needed, but he can’t get enough of Sam’s reactions. He raises Sam’s arm as he scrubs the skin there, and Sam squeaks as the bar of soap moves over his armpit. Dean chuckles, washing the second slower than the other, and Sam wriggles in Dean’s grasp.

“Enough already,” Sam shouts, lowering his arms, but he’s laughing too, right along with Dean. 

He washes Sam’s back next, watching in fascination as the soap moves over Sam’s skin, his shoulders, his neck. Sam’s head falls forward as Dean moves the bar of soap lower and lower, and when he reaches his ass, he washes it gently, sliding the bar between his cheeks just for a moment to reach every spot. Sam jumps slightly as he does it.

“Just being thorough,” Dean says, his voice thicker than he means it to be.

He lets the water fall over Sam’s skin to rinse the soap away, watching as the bubbles are guided downwards by the trail of hot water. Sam turns to face him, then, stretching up to kiss Dean softly. 

“Your hands feel good,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck, pressing their wet skin together. He knows it to be true when he feels Sam hard and ready on his thigh.

“I’m not done yet,” Dean says. “I still have to get your legs…” he lowers his voice, “and your dick.”

Sam shakes his head, unwrapping his arms and stepping back. “Let me wash you first,” he says. And before Dean can answer, he whirls Dean around, switching places with him, so Dean is directly under the spray of water. 

Dean doesn’t argue as Sam’s hands find his skin, taking the bar of soap gently from his hands, and begins to wash Dean. Carefully, methodically. Dean has to lean against the cold tiles of the wall as Sam’s fingers practically knead the soap onto Dean’s skin, feeling so incredibly good, tracing over his chest, down his abs, along his arms, and Dean almost falls over when Sam attacks his armpits.

“H-hey!” Dean laughs, trying to cross his arms to protect himself. 

“Payback,” Sam says innocently, smiling up at him. 

They stay in the shower for far too long, Dean notes, but he doesn’t try to rush them. Especially not when Sam falls to his knees to wash Dean’s legs, and tries very hard not to _get_ _hard_ as he sees how close Sam’s face is to his cock.

It doesn’t really work, since he’s been half hard since Sam first began washing him. He clenches his teeth as Sam takes his length into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the head of his dick with wet heat.

“Sammy,” Dean groans, his fingers gripping Sam’s hair, coming all too quickly as Sam’s teeth scrape lightly over his shaft. Sam swallows it all, licking his lips as he rises.

Dean kisses him hard, tasting himself on Sam’s tongue. “What did I do to deserve you?” Dean mumbles against his mouth, grabbing Sam’s ass with rough hands.

Sam yelps, trying to untangle himself, but Dean holds him close. “Deserve?” Sam repeats, jumping again as Dean’s hands squeeze his ass again. “Shut up,” he says. “You don’t need to _deserve_ anything, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head. “You’re everything,” he says, before grabbing Sam’s hips and lowering to his knees. Sam moans as Dean takes his erection into his mouth.

Later, Sam shuts off the water as it grows cold. “We probably need to leave soon,” he says, stepping out of the shower. Dean follows, grabbing his towel and dumping it on Sam’s head, rubbing it around to dry his hair. “We were in there for too long,” he says, voice barely distinguishable from beneath the towel.

“Worth it,” Dean comments, removing the towel. Sam’s hair sticks up everywhere, still wet and dripping. “Not dry yet,” Dean says, and covers Sam’s face back up.

Sam laughs as Dean dries his hair, and it isn’t until another several minutes go by that they finally leave the bathroom to go get dressed, Dean chasing him down the hall, buck naked and dripping wet.

Dressing is a challenge. At one point, both Sam’s pants and shirt is on, but is swiftly removed as Dean claims there’s a stain on his jeans. There isn’t. But Dean doesn’t hear any complaining from Sam as he pushes him onto the bed, moving his shirt and kissing a trail of wet kisses down his stomach.

“We just showered!” Sam shouts, hips bucking as Dean presses a kiss right next to his throbbing cock.

“But you’re hard,” Dean pouts, looking up at Sam. “I can’t leave you like this.”

“This is your fault,” Sam says, crossing his arms in mock exasperation. 

Dean only laughs, seeing right through him. “So let me take responsibility,” Dean says, taking Sam’s cock into his mouth for the second time today. And it isn’t even eight in the morning. Sam cries out as Dean’s tongue trails up the vein on his shaft, the saltiness of pre-come greeting Dean’s taste buds.

Finally, the boys are dressed and packing up their bags downstairs. Well, Sam is packing up, and Dean watches, biting his lip as Sam moves across the room, searching for his shoes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Sam says, looking beneath the couch.

“But your butt,” Dean says, beginning to move across the room.

Sam rises. “Don’t move, Dean. I mean it.” He points a finger at him. “If you make me hard again, I’ll… I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Dean asks, smirking, watching in amusement as Sam fumbles for words. “Let me bend you over the table?”

Sam’s whole face grows red in an instant. He looks away fast, reaching under the couch and pulling out a sneaker. “Found it,” he mutters. “Let’s go.”

He walks towards the door, where Dean stands, his eyes clearly looking for an opening to walk around Dean without touching him. But Dean sees, and waits for just the right moment to pounce.

As Sam walks by him, Dean grabs his waist, and Sam curses as Dean pushes him against the front door.

“I bet you’re already hard,” Dean says, palming Sam’s jeans, and sure enough, he finds his dick at full attention. He chuckles. “Knew it.”

“We’ll be late,” Sam gasps as Dean presses up against him. He rolls his hips, grinding his rock-hard cock into Sam’s, and Sam moans loudly.

“So what?” Dean breathes, then licks a wet line from his shoulder to his ear lobe. “You told me just last night you didn’t want to go, anyway.” Sam fights against Dean’s hands as they trap his arms above his head.

“I ch-changed my mind,” he says, but his head falls back against the door as Dean bites down on his neck, whimpering despite himself.

Dean chuckles. “I don’t think you did.” 

“Dean, we need to leave,” Sam pants. “S-stop.” He sounds as reluctant for Dean to stop as Dean feels, but he also knows fucking Sam against the door may be a bad idea. They don’t have time to clean up unless they really, truly want to be late. Not that Dean cares, but he knows Sam does.

Dean sighs, dropping his head to Sam’s shoulder. “Fine,” he says. “Fine, okay.” He steps back, watching as Sam fixes his shirt, smoothing it with shaking hands.

“We’ll just have to wait until after school,” Sam says, adjusting his jeans and wincing. Dean gives him a look.

“Are you sure I can’t just—”

“No time,” Sam cuts in, though it looks like it pains him to say no. He picks up his backpack by the door, where he threw it just the previous day before he stomped upstairs. Before they…

Dean suddenly gets an idea. One Sam would probably kill him for, but that’s only if he knows about it ahead of time. 

“You go wait outside,” Dean says, turning towards the stairs. “I forgot something.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Dean, you never bring so much as a pencil to school.”

Dean shrugs. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” he says.

Sam looks at him before rolling his eyes. “Make it quick,” he says, opening the door.

He dashes upstairs, heading towards his bedroom. God, like either of them can actually wait until _after_ school. Dean grins as he kneels by his nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling its contents into his pocket. School may be a bit fun, after all.

__

Sam stands a respective distance away from Dean on the sidewalk as they walk to school, though he feels Sam’s glances on him regardless. The sun shines bright and warm, green trees reaching long branches over their heads, leaves whispering above them. Dean looks over at Sam, who looks uncomfortable.

“Think about dead things,” Dean says, and Sam whips his head towards him. He shrugs. “It works for me,” he says. “At least, usually.”

“Usually?” Sam questions, looking ahead of them. 

Dean contemplates telling him the truth, that dead things couldn’t reduce a hard-on anytime Sam is in his line of sight, but he figures it won’t do well to bring Sam’s erection under control. “Not important,” he says instead.

“Dead things…” Sam mutters, his eyebrows furrowing. Dean watches Sam concentrate, and tries not to laugh at their situation: two brothers, walking to school, the younger with a painful erection that the older caused only minutes before. 

A few moments pass in silence, and finally Sam looks up. 

“Better?” Dean asks, and Sam nods. “Good. Now come here and stop being weird.”

He tugs Sam closer by his wrist, their shoulders knocking as they walk. “I’m kind of…” Sam trails off, his hands wringing in front of him. 

“Kinda what?” Dean asks, looking down at Sam. His expression looks conflicted. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assures, looking up at Dean. “More than fine, even.” He looks forwards again. “It’s just… is it stupid if I tell you I’m still worried about Liz?” 

“Sam…” Dean starts, shaking his head.

“Not that I’m worried _you’ll_ do anything!” he says, grabbing Dean’s arm. “You proved that to me. I know you won’t, Dean. I trust you. Seriously.” 

Dean nods. “Good,” he says, his chest warming at the words.

“But I don’t trust _her,_ ” Sam says, and Dean hears his voice harden. “She obviously doesn’t know boundaries,” Sam continues, letting go of Dean’s arm to cross his. 

“Then I’ll make sure she learns,” Dean says. “I won’t let her touch me. And if she comes on to me again…” Dean pauses for a moment, thinking. “I’ll make sure she knows I’m taken,” he says finally.

Dean walks a few more steps before he realizes Sam has stopped. He looks back, and Sam is just standing there, his hands at his sides now, his eyes so impossible wide.

“T-taken?” Sam repeats, looking so hopeful that a pang of something goes through Dean’s entire body.

Dean chuckles in disbelief, smiling wide. “Sammy, of course,” he says, walking up to him. “You’re mine,” he says. “I’m yours. There’s no doubt about it.” 

Sam nods, still staring at Dean like he’s seeing him for the first time. “So, I’m taken, too,” he eventually says, almost in awe, and Dean laughs.

“I sure hope so,” Dean says, throwing an arm around Sam’s shoulder and steering him forward. 

It isn’t until a few minutes later that Sam speaks again. “Thanks, Dean,” he says softly, and Dean looks down at him. He’s smiling, and he looks so fucking _happy_ that Dean’s heart almost stops.

__

Dean drops off Sam at his homeroom classroom, brushing a discreet hand down his arm before weaving his way down the hallway in the opposite direction. The first bell rings just as he slips inside his classroom, and the teacher frowns as Dean takes his seat.

Dean just shrugs. It’s not like he was late. 

First period drones on, and it’s towards the end of the class that Dean remembers what’s in his pocket. He grins to himself, planning to scope out the hallways during next period for what he needs.

He hides in the bathroom during passing period, and once the second bell rings, he walks down the halls, searching for abandoned classrooms and unlocked service closets. Ones that have locks on the doors.

It isn’t until the third floor that Dean lucks out. He finds a storage closet, lined with shelves with everything from toilet paper to staplers. The bland wooden door locks, and the space is large enough that Dean smiles. It’s perfect.

Dean spends the rest of the period standing outside Sam’s math class, looking in now and again just to see what Sam’s up to. More than a few times, he catches Sam’s eyelids drooping as he leans his head against his hand. Dean chuckles, but he doesn’t blame him; last night – and this morning, for that matter – was draining.

When the bell rings for break, Dean and Sam sit at the same table they did the day before, out in the sunshine. 

“How was class?” Sam asks, munching on an apple.

“The usual,” Dean shrugs, watching as Sam’s full lips brush against the apple every time he takes a bite. “I didn’t go to study hall.”

Sam frowns disapprovingly. “Why not?”

Dean shrugs again. “Reasons.”

“Dean, tell me,” Sam says, leaning forward. “No secrets.”

“It’s not a secret!” Dean laughs, smelling a hint of apple on Sam’s breath. “More like… a surprise.”

“Uh oh,” Sam says, taking another bite. “Should I be worried?”

Dean gives an evil smile. “That depends,” he says, leaning forward, “on if you like surprises.”

Sam gets up abruptly, almost tripping over the bench in his haste. “I’m going to class early,” he says, tossing his apple in the trash. His cheeks are slightly pink. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“No promises,” Dean says as Sam grabs his backpack. He frowns one last time before walking away. “See you later!” Dean calls after him, grinning.

__

It’s fourth period before Dean returns to the third floor. He leans casually against the wall, inspecting the crowd of people passing by, searching for the familiar head of hair in the sea of students. He knows Sam’s class is in this hallway, and his foot taps in anticipation on the linoleum floor, his thumb brushing the objects in his pocket as he waits.

Then he sees him, walking down the hall in his direction. Dean’s heart starts to race, adrenaline pumping through his veins as Sam walks closer. The door to the closet is just to his right, unlocked and ready to slip inside.

Sam sees Dean when he’s a few feet away, and he smiles as he nears. “What are you doing up here?” he asks, none the wiser about what Dean is thinking.

Dean takes his hand out of his pocket, smiling back at Sam. “Your surprise,” he says, and Sam barely has time to widen his eyes before Dean has the closet open and is tugging him inside.

The door is closed and locked in seconds, and Dean turns to see Sam staring stupidly at the shelves. “Some surprise,” he says, staring at a mop in the corner before turning to face Dean. 

Dean chuckles, walking up to him. “There’s more,” he says, pressing his forehead to Sam’s. He slides off Sam’s backpack from his shoulders and tosses it to the side, and it hits the ground with a soft thump. “If you want to,” he adds. 

Sam catches on quickly, and he takes in a long breath. “I have class,” he says, biting his lip.

“Somehow,” Dean says, “I don’t think you want to go that badly.” 

Sam doesn’t bother denying it. “We could get caught,” he says softly.

“Door is locked,” Dean replies, brushing his lips across Sam’s cheek.

A pause. “What if someone hears?”

Dean chuckles. “You’ll have to be quiet, then.”

Sam scowls and whacks Dean on the arm, but Dean catches it as Sam moves to hit him a second time, pushing him farther into the closet. “I don’t hear a no,” Dean says, wrapping an arm around Sam’s back.

Dean looks down into Sam’s eyes, the hazel color seeming to change in the dim light of the closet. “Then what are you waiting for?” Sam breathes, voice soft.

So Dean kisses him, slow and sweet, pressing him up against the back wall of shelves, a repeat of this morning. Sam sighs as he parts his lips, his tongue moving to greet Dean’s, twisting and tangling, tasting each other.

The kiss becomes heated quickly, and Dean groans as Sam’s hands find his chest, tracing over his shirt, moving steadily downwards. Dean’s hands explore Sam’s back, finding his ass and slipping his hands into the waistband of his jeans and briefs to squeeze the bare skin.

Sam gasps into Dean’s mouth, his hands curling into Dean’s shirt, pulling him closer. Dean tugs Sam to him by his ass, pressing his hardening cock into Sam’s crotch. 

“Dean,” Sam whispers, letting his head fall back, as if begging Dean to kiss him along his neck. Dean obliges, kissing just under his jaw, licking, nipping, and Sam moans.

“Shh, Sammy,” Dean whispers against his neck, “not too loud.”

“S-sorry,” he replies, breathing heavy, his hands tightening around Dean’s shirt as Dean continues to bite at his neck. 

Dean’s hands leave Sam’s butt to unbutton Sam’s jeans, pushing them down and off, and he grins as Sam kicks them forcefully into the space of the closet.

“In a hurry?” Dean jokes, palming Sam over his briefs, feeling the hot hardness of his already throbbing erection.

“Don’t go dragging this out, Dean,” Sam warns, slipping his hands beneath Dean’s shirt. Dean shivers as Sam’s cold hands explore his chest, his thumbs brushing over his nipples. “I can’t stand it when you do that.”

Dean presses down harder with his hand, and Sam’s hips buck violently, his eyelids fluttering as he bites down on his lip. Dean watches with lowered lashes. “Duly noted,” he mumbles, and takes Sam by the hips and flips him around, so he faces the shelves.

Sam doesn’t argue at the change, clutching at the shelves with both hands as Dean traces his mouth down Sam’s back, kissing him over his shirt, down his spine. When he reaches Sam’s briefs, he gets down on his knees and slips them off. He spreads Sam’s cheeks, biting his lip as he sees Sam’s pink hole, which already twitches eagerly. 

“Dean,” Sam whines, jutting his ass back towards Dean’s face. “ _Do_ something,” he begs.

“Your ass is so damn hot,” Dean says, leaning in to press his tongue against Sam’s hole, tracing the rim slowly. Sam shudders, moving his hips back again, searching for more.

“F-fuck,” Sam hisses, and Dean glances up to see Sam biting down on his wrist, desperately holding in his moans. 

Dean pushes his tongue in, flicking it inside of him, and Sam gives a muffled cry as his hips tremble. Sam’s hole easily stretches around Dean’s tongue, and he knows Sam won’t need much preparation.

One of Dean’s hands moves to take Sam’s dick, stroking up and down his shaft lazily as his tongue moves within him. Sam whines in ecstasy, muttering Dean’s name, and Dean feels pre-come begin to leak as he swipes his thumb over the head.

Dean pushes his tongue in once more, the farthest it can go, and Sam’s head falls forward to lean against the shelves, his eyes shut tight it pleasure. His body shudders under Dean’s hands where they hold his hips, where they pump his cock. Sam moans again, the sound stifled by his hand, and Dean withdraws his tongue and slows his hand, knowing Sam must already be close.

He presses a final kiss to his hole before rising, and Sam whimpers against the shelves, panting, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. “I w-want you,” he breathes. “ _Please,_ ” he tells Dean, voice cracking as Dean’s thumb presses into the slit of his cock.

“God, Sam,” Dean exhales, pressing his hard-on against Sam’s ass, grinding against him, the friction dizzying, even through his jeans. “You ready for me, baby brother?” he asks, lips at his ear, voice dense with lust. “Ready for my hard cock?”

“Yeah,” Sam whispers, “ _yes_ , Dee. _Please._ ” 

Dean reaches into his pocket, finally pulling out the condom and small bottle of lube he had taken that morning from his bedside table. Sam glances behind him, eyeing the objects.

“Condom?” he questions as Dean pulls down his jeans, then his briefs, letting them pool around his fee,

“Unless you’d like to leak my come from your ass for the rest of the day, I think it’s a smart idea,” Dean points out, and Sam’s face flushes, hard. Dean chuckles, opening the small foil packet.

Sam watches with interest as Dean rolls on the condom, who strokes himself a few times once it’s on properly. He looks back at Sam, his eyes rising slowly too meet Dean’s gaze. “Fuck me,” he says simply, and Dean growls as he tugs Sam’s ass towards him and rubs his cock between his ass cheeks.

Sam pushes back into Dean, smiling as Dean groans. “So fucking good,” he grunts, gripping Sam’s hips. “Fuck, Sammy. Just like that.” Sam continues rocking his hips, the warmth of his ass causing Dean’s head to swim.

Dean’s hand that grips the bottle of lube uncaps it clumsily, moving from Sam’s hip to apply it directly onto his cock. He groans as the cold substance hits his sensitive skin, and Sam gasps as he feels it on his ass. Once enough has been applied, he tosses it onto Sam’s jeans behind him.

Dean rubs his dick a few more times against Sam, letting the lube slick them both up. Then he presses the head of his cock against Sam’s hole, wrapping one of his arms around Sam’s torso, clutching him to his chest, the other guiding himself into Sam’s hole.

He enters in one slow thrust, clenching his teeth as he feels Sam’s warmth swallow him up. Sam cries out, loud and unhindered, and Dean quickly raises his hand from his cock to press it against Sam’s mouth.

“Sammy,” he groans, “bite down,” he instructs. He’s inside him fully, and Sam’s teeth press hard into Dean’s skin as he moans again, now quieter than before. Dean doesn’t move at first, letting Sam adjust. But then he feels Sam clench around him, tight and sudden, and Dean nearly comes right there. “Fuck!” he hisses, pulling out slightly. “Sam, relax,” he whispers.

“C-can’t,” Sam says into his hand. “It’s t-too _good,_ ” he cries, his eyes squeezing shut. “Move, Dean. _Fuck_ _me!_ ”

God, how can Dean say no to that? He thrusts back in, grunting with the effort to do so gently. Sam makes a high pitched, whimpering noise, moving his hips back hard into Dean, and Dean’s in so deep now he nearly combusts as he looks down to see their joint bodies. 

“Ah, god,” Dean moans as quietly as he can, voice low. “You feel so good around me, Sammy. So fucking good.” He thrusts in again, his head falling back, and he clutches Sam just above his cock, holding him tight, using him to steady himself.

“D-Dean,” Sam pants, “don’t p-press there,” he says, voice rising. 

Dean applies more pressure where his hand lies on Sam’s lower stomach. “Here?” he asks, and Sam almost shouts, biting down on Dean’s hand just in time.

“Too m-much,” Sam whimpers, “it makes you feel b-bigger!” 

Dean grins, pressing down again, and this time he _feels_ Sam’s reaction, his ass tightening around his cock. “Shit,” Dean rumbles, “it feels good, huh?”

“Dee!” Sam cries, biting down on Dean’s hand again. He moans around him, the sound still too loud, and Dean shushes Sam softly, whispering in his ear to try to stay quiet. 

Dean continues plunging into Sam, a white-hot heat building low in his gut, getting closer and closer to his release. He holds Sam tighter, kissing him along his neck, licking at his ear. Sam’s hands dig into the shelves, his knuckles turning white with strain, his head thrown back. His eyes are shut tight, and his teeth hold on to Dean’s hand desperately as he tries to contain his moans.

Sam’s back arches beautifully as he moves to meet Dean’s thrusts, and Dean can’t help trailing his eyes over the skin, down and down until he reaches where his cock enters Sam’s body. He watches as his shaft moves in and out, Sam’s hole consuming him up again and again.

“You look so beautiful,” Dean says, “taking my cock like that. Like you were meant for it.” Sam only whimpers in response, and Dean begins to move faster. “Look, Sammy. Look at your hole, like it’s sucking me in.”

Sam releases Dean’s hand to look behind him, down at his ass, where Dean thrusts into him. He moans as his takes it in, their bodies moving together. “Dean,” he gasps, looking up into Dean’s eyes. “ _Dean._ ”

Dean nods, agreeing with the awe in his voice. “You close, baby?” he asks, thrusting harder, harder than he’s been willing to risk so far. But Sam doesn’t so much as wince. Instead his eyes almost roll into his head with pleasure, moving back to press against the shelves. “You ready to come?”

“Yeah,” he whimpers. “I’m gonna come, Dean. I’m so close.”

“Do it,” Dean whispers, leaning in close again, his chest pressed up against Sam’s back. “Come, Sammy.” He moves his hand to Sam’s dick again, stroking him up and down.

“D-Dean—” Sam chokes, body trembling. “I— I’m—!”

And then he’s coming, Dean’s hand around his cock to catch his come as it shoots out of him. The warmth in his fingers and Sam’s clenching hole finally sends Dean over the edge, and he climaxes with one final thrust into Sam, groaning into Sam’s neck.

They come down slowly, Sam collapsing against the shelves, Dean’s arms the only things keeping him upright. He guides Sam to the floor, holding him to his chest, kissing him softly on the cheek. They both breathe heavily, and Dean doesn’t let Sam go until both they both are calm.

Dean eventually slips out of Sam, disposing of the condom quickly. He keeps an arm around Sam the whole time, even if it makes him clumsy and slow in the process. 

“Sammy?” Dean says softly, tilting his head towards him. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his voice sounding tired and sated.

“Am I going to have to carry you out of here?” Dean asks, only half joking. But he knows he’s in the clear when Sam hits him on the arm. 

After a few minutes, they pull on their clothes, Sam grumbling when Dean insists on helping him with his jeans. “I can do it myself,” he says, crossing his arms.

“I know you can,” Dean replies innocently. But the truth is, Sam is exhausted, and doing a very poor job in hiding it.

“I should go to class now,” Sam says, looking around the closet until his eyes fall on a clock above the door. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“Maybe we should leave early,” Dean suggests, buttoning up his own jeans before stuffing the bottle of lube and condom wrapper back into his pocket.

Sam shakes his head. “No way. I already missed some of class because of you.”

Dean raises an eyebrow.

Sam sighs, leaning against Dean, nuzzling his face in his chest. “Not that I really minded,” he allows. 

Dean grins, wrapping his arms around him. “That’s what I thought.”

“But seriously,” Sam says, looking up at Dean, his gaze unwavering, “I’m going back to class.”

Dean sighs. “Alright,” he says, separating himself from Sam and walking to the door, opening it a crack to peek out. The hallway is empty, silent, and Dean motions for Sam to follow him outside.

Dean walks him to class. They walk in silence, but after Dean looks up and down the hallway one more time, he slips his hand into Sam’s.

Sam looks up quickly, his eyes wide.

Dean shrugs. “No one’s around,” he says, though he knows what he’s doing is beyond dangerous. He sees the same understanding in Sam’s eyes, in the way Sam breathes a little faster. If anyone were to see them…

But he doesn’t let go just yet, rubbing his thumb along the underside of Sam’s wrist. “It’s okay,” he whispers, and Sam calms a bit.

They reach Sam’s classroom too soon. They say goodbye, neither of them stupid enough to risk a kiss. Dean backs away slowly, letting go of Sam’s hand only when they are too far away to hold on.

“I love you,” Dean says, smiling.

Sam smiles back, his dimples appearing on his cheeks, his eyes lighting up. “Love you too,” he says back.

The classroom door closes behind Sam with a soft click. 

Dean grins to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walks down the hallway towards the stairs, down to his own class. Sam was right, all those years he had tried convincing Dean: school is fun.

He’s at the stairs when he hears a door slam open, and feet hitting the floor in a run. He turns around to see Sam racing towards him, eyes wide, anger and amusement somehow both on his face.

“Sam?” Dean asks, confused.

“My backpack!” he whisper-shouts at Dean, waving his hands hysterically towards the closet. 

And God, does Dean _laugh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy, sexy ;) *evil laughter.* I hope this chapter was as fulfilling to you as it was to write. 
> 
> By the way, I had an idea to set up a twitter page for this story. I always have urges to update you guys, but I never can until I actually post a chapter... what do you guys think? Is it worth it? Please let me know!
> 
> Make sure to leave a comment (those are my favorite!) and a kudos! I love you all, and I'll see you next chapter!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think about the playlist, too! It's constantly changing; songs are added and deleted all the time. 
> 
> (By the way, did you notice I met the deadline?)  
> DancesWithFiends xxx
> 
> SamDean Playlist (these songs are the ones I write to and brainstorm to):  
> Stay by Hurts  
> Idfc by Blackbear  
> Running Up That Hill by Track and Field  
> Runnin' by Adam Lambert  
> Entertainment by Adam Lambert  
> Beautiful Crime by Tamer  
> Flesh by Simon Curtis  
> Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap  
> Hurricane by Thirty Seconds to Mars  
> Hangman by Chris Pureka  
> The End of All Things by Panic! At The Disco  
> Crossfire by Stephen  
> Saturn by Sleeping at Last  
> Sweet Nothing (ft Florence Welch) Tiesto Remix by Calvin Harris  
> Overjoyed by Bastille  
> I Don't Know Why by Imagine Dragons  
> Whatever it Takes by Imagine Dragons  
> Young and Menace by Fall Out Boy  
> ChillXYLø by Afterlife (Ark patrol Remix)


	9. No Matter What

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean's time away from John is coming to a close. Sam knows the end was inevitable, but that doesn't mean that makes it any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN A MILLION YEARS I KNOOWWW.  
> Hi and welcome back to The Good Days. First of all, besides the (obvious) apology for taking so long to update, I want to thank each and every single reader who has ever read a single word of mine. Over 10 thousand hits! I'm in disbelief! Thank you all for your support.  
> Now, in regards to this chapter, this one didn't take that long, I'll be honest. The problem was my lack of time management. I need to work on that. Hehe. BUT the reason this chapter was quick was because the words just FLOWED. It has been so long since I saw my boys and I missed them so much. I hope you like their comeback as much as I do. :)  
> Please enjoy this chapter!

A rhythmic tapping fills the silence between the Winchester brothers. It comes from the pencil in Sam’s hand as it hits his notebook, the soft whack of the eraser on paper giving away his restlessness. He tries to focus on his homework, though no matter how intensely he stares at the math problems before him, his attention won’t stray from the presence behind him. He sighs heavily, staring blankly at a set of numbers.

Dean lounges on Sam’s bed, a car magazine in his hand, the crinkling of paper emitting every so often when he turns a page, mingling with the tapping of Sam’s pencil. Sam squeezes his eyes shut, trying to fight the urge of pushing away his schoolwork and crawling into bed beside Dean. He has too much work to do, and he knows that if he so much as touches Dean right now, his homework won’t get done at all.

But a tiny break wouldn’t hurt. 

Sam discreetly turns his head to glance back at his brother, the tapping of his pencil speeding up unconsciously as he takes in Dean’s casual form, reclined against the headboard of the bed. His biceps strain against his black t-shirt, his muscles moving with the small effort of simply turning the magazine page. Sam smiles softly, glad that Dean agreed to keep him company. The excruciating boredom of homework would have been unbearable with Dean in just the other room.

Then again, it probably would have been better than this. Because now, Sam can’t focus, his eyes instead trained on Dean’s lips, moving gently as he mouths the words he’s reading, and his bright green eyes, moving rapidly across the page.

Sam jumps as his pencil flies out of his hand and clatters to the floor, his tapping having gotten just a bit out of control.

Dean looks up from his magazine, an amused smile unfurling on his face. “Maybe you should get back to work,” he says, and Sam feels Dean’s eyes on him as he bends down to grab the pencil.

“I _am_ working,” Sam mutters, straightening out in his chair, turning back toward his desk. He tries to calm the thudding of his heart as Dean chuckles quietly, his magazine crinkling with another turned page.

“Whatever you say.”

Silence again fills the room as Dean returns to his reading, and Sam continues on with his math problems. Or, tries to, anyway. He stops tapping his pencil, at least, instead scribbling on his notebook as he works out the numbers. Slowly. His brain feels like mush, wandering back to Dean whenever he lets his guard down.

A few minutes go by. Sam manages to complete a math problem, sighing as he moves on to the next. 

“Need help?” Dean asks, sounding so obviously entertained by Sam’s boredom that it kind of pisses him off. 

“I’m fine,” Sam insists, pretending to rummage around in his notebook for a specific page. Anything to keep his hands busy. “It’s not like you could figure this out anyway,” he points out.

Dean laughs, not at all offended. “True,” he concedes, his magazine again fluttering with movement. His voice lowers as he says, “but maybe I can help in another way.”

Sam freezes, his hand gripping his pencil so hard his knuckles turn white. Dean’s subtle offer is tempting. God, is it _so_ tempting.

Two weeks have gone by since he and Dean had gone all the way. And since then, it has been all that Sam could think about, his every waking thought consumed by Dean. Every night for the past two weeks has been spent in Dean’s bed. And almost every night, Dean has shown him just how much the two of them can do, how far they can go, how good Sam can feel. He will never stop being amazed at the affect Dean has on him, how the simplest touch can send sparks shooting throughout his body, how the warmth inside of chest seems to expand each time Dean looks at him. School seems to pass in a blur, moments not worth remembering, not when he has Dean to look forward to when he gets home. And sometimes, to look forward to during school, too, even though each stolen moment is a dangerous risk.

The last handful of days were a whirlwind of skin and heat and pleasure, and Sam doesn’t want to let it go. He dreads the day John will come back and put them back on the road. Only over a week left…

But he shakes his head firmly, pulling his notebook closer to him. It’s a bad idea to get distracted now. He won’t allow his homework to go unfinished, no matter how magnetizing Dean’s presence behind him is.

“That would be the opposite of helping,” Sam says, forcing the words out. “Later, after I finish.”

Dean sighs, the bed groaning as he shifts. “Maybe I won’t be in the mood later.”

Sam laughs, giving a pointed look back at Dean. “Nice try,” he says, unable to fight the grin on his face. “You’re _always_ in the mood.”

Dean sticks his tongue out, making a show of opening up his magazine wider and covering his face. “Get back to work, Sammy,” he orders.

Sam shakes his head and turns back to his notebook, still grinning, trying to ignore the flutter of warmth in his gut that he gets every time Dean calls him that. He uses the promise of later as motivation, working through his math slowly but getting it done nonetheless. At one point, Dean rises from the bed, gives Sam a kiss on his temple and wraps his strong arms around Sam’s chest.

“Almost done?” he asks, his nose brushing gently against Sam’s neck. He can’t help but tilt his head to allow Dean easier access.

“A few more problems,” Sam breathes back, angling his head for a kiss, but Dean pulls away before he can.

“Better step it up, then,” Dean says, his tone playful as he makes his way to the bedroom door. “I’m kind of getting tired.”

Sam turns around sharply just in time to see the evil grin plastered on Dean’s face before he disappears from the room.

“Don’t fuck with me!” Sam calls after him, clutching his pencil so hard the wood creaks. “I mean it!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Dean laughs, his voice receding down the stairs.

Sam sighs, turning back towards his desk. “Don’t you have any homework?” Sam yells. The only reply he gets is a loud, heavy laughter, as if that’s the most outrageous question in the world. To Dean, it probably is.

__

Later, Sam’s head rests on Dean’s sweaty chest, the steady rhythm of Dean’s heart beating wonderfully in his ear as he slowly falls into the clutches of sleep.

“You still awake?” Dean’s voice rumbles, vibrating along Sam’s cheek, the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” Sam whispers, his throat just a bit raw from moaning and shouting his earlier pleas to Dean. He shifts closer to Dean’s body, tangling their legs together under the covers. Each contact of Dean’s skin is like a tiny spark; Sam wonders if that will ever wear off. He hopes it never does.

“I was wondering,” Dean says, his fingers moving steadily up Sam’s spine, the callouses of his fingertips rough and heady. “Well, more just… thinking. An idea I had a few days ago.” He pauses, his fingers lingering at the nape of Sam’s neck.

“What about?” Sam asks, tilting his head back slightly until Dean’s hand continues upwards, his fingers threading into his hair, scratching pleasantly along his scalp. 

Dean clears his throat. “Hunting,” he says carefully. Sam stiffens, but Dean continues on. “Not anything bad,” he assures, tugging gently on Sam’s hair. His toes curl despite his uneasiness; Sam loves when Dean plays with his hair. “The idea I had,” Dean continues. “You’re getting older, and… well, I started going on trips when I was only a little older than you. So, I was thinking…” he pauses again, his fingers stilling once more.

“Dean,” Sam whispers. He wonders why Dean is thinking about hunting _now,_ of all the times and places. But it must be important, if Dean chose now to bring it up. When they are sated, happy, have not a care in the world, for just a little while. “Just say it,” he says. Whatever it is, Sam decides, surely he can handle it.

“What if…,” Dean starts, voice faltering. “What if we hunted together?” he says, words spilling out in a rush.

Sam frowns, moving around until he’s looking up at Dean. Dean’s eyes are trained on the ceiling, as if nervous for Sam’s answer.

“Hey,” Sam says. Dean doesn’t look down. “ _Hey,_ ” Sam says again, nudging Dean’s chest with his chin, nuzzling playfully. Dean finally looks down, his forehead creased. “Wasn’t that always the plan?” Sam asks, “me, you, and Dad, all on the road, hunting together?” 

Dean nods slowly. “Yes, but I mean…” he takes a deep breath, sitting up until he’s leaning back straight against the headboard, eyes locked on Sam. “I mean, what if it wasn’t you, me, and Dad? What if it was just you and me?”

Sam sits up, the sheets falling gently around his knees. He watches as Dean waits for an answer, and he swears it’s as if Dean is holding his breath. So Sam grins, slapping Dean hard on the chest.

“Ow!” Dean shouts, his head bumping against the wall in his surprise. “ _Ow!_ What the fuck was that for?” He rubs at his chest, a red mark already forming, his other hand clutching at his skull.

“What’d you think I was gonna say, jerk?” Sam asks, crawling to Dean until he’s sitting on his lap, his legs straddling both of Dean’s thighs. “Of course I want to go with you. Just the two of us, on the road?” Sam already can imagine the long nights with Dean, the shared motel rooms, every single moment with his older brother. Hunting with Dean… maybe he would finally enjoy the life. “Why the hell would I say no to that?”

Dean shrugs, his expression still unsure. “For one thing, there’s the obvious.” Sam raises an eyebrow. “It’s dangerous, dumbass,” Dean says, pinching his butt playfully, making Sam jump. 

“That’s all hunting,” Sam points out, settling back on Dean’s lap, “with or without Dad. And I’d rather have you at my back than him.” 

Dean’s eyes widen a fraction. “Yeah?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Sam says firmly, meaning it. “Dumbass,” he adds, giggling when Dean pinches his ass again.

“And,” Dean says, moving back to the point, “there’s the matter of convincing Dad in the first place…”

Sam frowns, already working his brain towards a solution. How to explain to John that they want to hit the road together, to split up, to be on their own for the first time in their lives… well, at least while on the job. It’s only moments later when he feels Dean’s fingers tilt his chin down suddenly, his thumb nudging his bottom lip.

“Don’t bite it,” he says throatily. “I can still go again.” His green eyes darken, his hand tightening on Sam’s jaw.

Sam swallows dryly, his heart beginning to quicken as Dean’s free hand moves up his thigh. “We just finished,” he breathes.

Dean doesn’t bother replying, only leaning in until his mouth is pressed against Sam’s lips. Gently at first, just the barest pressure of skin against skin. But then Dean tilts his head, his mouth parting, his tongue darting out the brush against Sam’s bottom lip.

“Wait,” Sam gasps, pushing against Dean’s hard chest. “We were talking,” he reminds him. But his gaze falls to Dean’s mouth regardless, the pink of his tongue swiping against full lips.

“We can talk later,” Dean suggests, grabbing Sam by the hips, pulling him closer. Their chests are almost pressed together, Sam’s member already beginning to harden against the heated skin of Dean’s stomach.

“You started the conversation!”

“You still have another year,” Dean says, nipping at Sam’s throat. “Maybe two. I was getting ahead of myself.” He kisses Sam wetly by his ear before moving downwards. “We have all that time to think up an argument against Dad.”

Sam shivers as Dean’s teeth scrape against the edge of his collar bone, his head falling back despite himself. “W-what makes you think it’ll be an argument?”

This makes Dean freeze, and he leans back once more to look Sam in the eye. “Argument or not,” he says, cupping Sam’s cheek, “I’ll make sure it’ll end up being me and you. No matter what.”

Sam takes a deep breath, bringing his hand up and placing it over Dean’s. “Even if he—”

“No matter what,” Dean says, voice hard. And then he kisses Sam on the forehead, a soft thing, but the inflection of Dean’s promise makes him tremble right down to his toes. 

Sam’s breathing speeds up as Dean kisses him again, on the mouth this time, deeply and unhurried. Sam jolts as he feels Dean’s fingers trail across his ass, his blunt nails scraping carefully across his taut skin. He moans softly into Dean’s mouth, his arms wrapping around Dean’s neck as Dean’s hands continue to explore.

When one of Dean’s hands find his already hardened cock, Sam can’t hold in his whimper of satisfaction as Dean takes him in his hand, stroking him up and down without breaking their kiss, without pausing the movements of his other hand as it moves closer to its target. Sam moves his hips in time with Dean’s ministrations, pushing his cock harder into Dean’s palm, craving more friction, more heat.

“Dean,” Sam gasps, pulling away from their kiss for a gulp of air. He pants into Dean’s neck, his arms tightening as Dean’s thumb moves over the weeping slit of Sam’s erection. At the same moment, Dean’s other hand finds its goal, the tip of his index finger pressing up against Sam’s entrance with an almost desperate persistence. Sam cries out as Dean pushes in without warning. 

“You’re still ready from the last time,” Dean whispers, his breath hot in Sam’s ear. “I bet I could put my cock in you right now and you would take it.” 

Sam moans at Dean’s words, nodding into his neck, his eyes squeezed tight. “I’m ready,” he agrees. “Give it to me.”

Dean growls, pushing his finger in all the way, barely pausing before joining it with a second. Sam’s back arches, his ass moving backwards to meet Dean’s digits. He can feel Dean’s cock hard and hot against his own stomach, the pre-come a distance warmth along his skin. 

“How do you want it?” Dean asks, kissing Sam’s jaw, the corner of his mouth, nipping his bottom lip. His fingers stroke deep within Sam, finding that place that makes him see sparks behind his eyelids. 

The question is a common one, one that Sam hears often now, almost every time before Dean fucks him. The first time Dean asked, Sam didn’t know what to make of his inquiry.

“What do you mean?” Sam had gasped, squirming on the mattress, Dean having had pinned Sam under him by his wrists. 

“I mean,” Dean whispered, his mouth by Sam’s ear, “do you want it like this, so I can see every one of your reactions?” He ground his erection against Sam’s leg as an example, his face hovering mere inches over his own. Sam was about to nod until Dean flipped him over suddenly, now on his stomach, his ass laid bare to the ceiling. “Or like this?” Dean asked, grabbing Sam’s ass cheeks and squeezing, “from behind? While I grab your hips and fuck you into the sheets?” Again Sam was about to nod, until Dean flipped him back over and showed him another option, one that Sam has begun to prefer…

“Like this,” Sam says, pushing his cock harder into Dean’s hand. “I wanna be over you,” he begs. “I wanna _ride_ you.” He removes an arm from around Dean’s neck and raises his hips a fraction, Dean’s hand falling from around his cock.

“Fuck,” Dean groans, looking down to watch Sam take his erection and pump it slowly, spreading his hot pre-come along the shaft. “ _Fuck_ ,” he says again, his eyes fluttering as Sam tightens his grip. Sam raises his hips more, clutching Dean’s neck with one hand as the other guides Dean’s cock towards his entrance. 

As the tip of Dean’s cock enters Sam, they both let out a moan, Dean’s low and growly, Sam’s light and breathy. Sam wraps his arm back around Dean’s neck, lowering himself slowly over Dean, feeling Dean’s length slide deeper and deeper with each inch his hips move downwards. 

“Oh, fuck,” Sam whimpers, his head falling forward against Dean’s forehead. “Fuck, Dean, _fuck_!” Dean grabs Sam’s hips in response, pushing in just as Sam lowers himself. And then Sam stills, his ass against Dean’s legs, Dean’s cock completely sheathed inside Sam’s ass. 

Sam doesn’t wait, doesn’t waste time to adjust, doesn’t need it. He begins to move, his hips rolling over Dean, searching for the perfect rhythm that will drive them both over the edge. 

“Sammy,” Deans gasps, “oh, fucking hell, Sammy.” His fingers dig into Sam’s hips, and Sam moans as he feels Dean’s cock throb inside of him, getting somehow harder as he moves. 

“I love it like this,” Sam whimpers, his voice small, barely distinguishable from his noises of pleasure. “Y-you’re so _deep_ in me, Dean. You’re so fucking _deep_.”

Dean groans as Sam increases his pace, Dean’s cock sliding in and out of him with an agonizing heat that starts deep within him and spreads to his cock, to his legs, to his very fingertips. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Dean gasps, his hands moving to Sam’s ass cheeks, spreading them with intense urgency. Sam yelps, throwing his head back. He can feel Dean’s cock even better now, the smooth hardness of him so deep he can barely clear the fog in his head. “I love how you react when I touch you.” He sits up more, so their chests are pressed together, hooking an arm around the small of Sam’s back to hold him close. Sam moans, his back arching as his hips rock with increased pace, Dean thrusting upwards to meet Sam’s every movement. “Every part of you drives me crazy, Sammy.” He kisses Sam heatedly, a sweaty peck on the mouth. “Fucking crazy.”

Sam feels the pull in his gut grow with each thrust of Dean’s cock inside of him, with each roll of is hips. His cock is trapped between their moving bodies, the friction of their stomachs guiding him along the precipice of his climax. 

“I’m close,” he tells Dean. “I’m so close,” he whimpers. 

“Yeah?” Dean asks, Sam’s small body clutched close to his own. “What do you need, baby? What do want me to do?”

“F-fuck me harder,” Sam moans, his arms tight around Dean’s neck, his forehead still flush against Dean’s own. He knows his breath is all over Dean’s face, but he doesn’t care, can’t seem to calm down, his blood racing fast in his veins as he approaches his orgasm all too quickly. “Fuck me deeper, Dean. I fucking _need_ you.”

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean moves faster, holding Sam tight as his hips thrust upwards. Sam stops his own movements, too weak to continue, clutching Dean with all he’s worth as Dean continues to move inside of him. “Like this, baby brother? Feel me harder? Feel me deeper inside of you?”

Sam moans, hoping that he’s nodding but is too intoxicated with pleasure to really know if he’s doing so. So he whines Dean’s name, giving himself up to the waves of heat crashing down upon him. He shouts as he comes, the orgasm ripping through him, his arms tightening around Dean as his load spills between their bodies. Dean follows almost immediately after, his arm tight around Sam’s back, the other clutching Sam’s neck, fingers in his hair. Sam moans softly as he feels the heat of Dean’s come inside him, both pleasant and unfamiliar. 

Dean kisses him before they fully recover, breaths hot and heavy as their tongues taste each other. Sam sighs, his grip loosening, his body slowly becoming slack in Dean’s arms as the last of his climax leaves him with a shudder.

Without letting go of Sam, Dean scoots himself lower on the mattress until they lay side by side, Sam still half on top of Dean, bodies sticky with come pressed together. Dean slips out of Sam carefully, Sam feeling the warmth of Dean’s orgasm leak out of him not completely uncomfortably. He likes the reminder, the physical sign of Dean’s feelings for him.

As if reading his mind, Dean swipes a hand through the mess, trying to clean it up as best he can. “You really don’t mind this?” he asks. 

Sam shakes his head lazily, kissing Dean’s pec. “I like it,” he says sleepily. “I like _you_.”

Dean chuckles. “After sex Sam is truly the best,” he comments. 

“Shut up,” Sam mumbles, but it must not come out very well because Dean just laughs again. 

Sam falls asleep to the steady beating of Dean’s heart, but not before he hears Dean’s voice, distant beyond the haze of sleep, whisper: “No matter what.”

__

 

The next week or so passes by all too quickly for Sam’s liking. He tries to hold on, to capture each day between his fingers and make it last for as long as possible, but each hour gone of him and Dean’s little escape leaves him wishing for a thousand more.

At night, with the sun fading behind the horizon, either his or Dean’s bedroom awash in an orange hue, he loses himself in his brother’s touch. He savors each one of Dean’s words, each one imprinted in him, each one just as meaningful and strong as the last. And in return, he holds nothing back, whispering his fears of their Dad’s return in Dean’s ear, clutching Dean’s arm when the incipient end seems all too close, when it crushes Sam so much he can hardly breathe.

“When do you think we’ll be alone like this again?” Sam asks one night, Dean’s arm around his body, his back pressed against Dean’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Dean says. “I’d stay here forever with you, if I could.”

“Me too,” Sam whispers. A question lies on the tip of his tongue, something that these four weeks have made him ponder more and more with each passing day. He wonders if Dean would agree with him.

“What is it?” Dean asks. “I can hear your brain thinking.” He kisses Sam’s neck, his lips warm and soft on his skin.

Sam smiles, psyching himself up. “Don’t get mad?”

“Depends what it is,” Dean says, voice growing more serious. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Sam sighs. He takes a deep breath. “Do you even wonder what it would be like… if we weren’t brothers? If we had met as friends, or something?”

Dean doesn’t answer for a long time, the only sign of his hearing Sam’s question the tenseness of his arm around Sam. Sam closes his eyes, focusing on keeping his breathing even.

Just when Sam thinks Dean won’t answer, he responds. “I’ve thought about it,” he admits, and Sam lets out a long breath. “But I don’t anymore.”

Sam shifts uneasily. “Why not?”

Dean kisses Sam again, on his shoulder, allowing Sam to relax, proof that Dean isn’t upset with him. “Because with each situation I think of, it always seems worse than this.”

Sam doesn’t answer, allowing the silence to speak for him.

“Let’s say we had met as hunters,” Dean says, brushing his thumb over Sam’s nipple. “On some random case or something. Let’s say we had grown feelings for each other and ended up becoming like… this.” Sam feels Dean press his nose to his hair and inhale. “It would have had to end the moment Dad had decided to up and leave. You know he doesn’t like to work with others.”

Sam nods. “Yeah,” he agrees. “But we wouldn’t have had to hide so much.”

Dean chuckles. “That’s assuming Dad is fine with boys fucking boys. Which I doubt he is.” This makes Sam inhale sharply; he hadn’t really thought of that. The danger of him and Dean had always been because they are brothers.

“I—” Sam says, but he’s unable to really respond to that.

“I know, Sammy.”

Sam swallows. “What else did you think about?”

“Well, that, basically. If we hadn’t been hunters, by some chance, and we hadn’t been related. If we had met at school or some shit. The issue would have been us being boys. And,” Dean laughs, as if just occurring to him, “our age difference, of course.”

“Of course,” Sam huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t get all pissy. I ended up fucking you, didn’t I?”

Sam whacks Dean on the arm, but Dean only laughs, hugging Sam closer to his chest. They don’t speak for a while, the only sound their breathing and the rustling of trees outside the window.

“I’m glad we’re brothers,” Sam says. And although he had thought about what it would have been like to not be related to Dean, how it might have made their relationship easier, Sam had decided this long ago. He loves Dean, as a brother and as something more. “It’s fucked up, that we’re related and doing this. But… I wouldn’t want it another way. I don’t think there _is_ another way.”

Dean sighs into Sam’s neck. “I came to terms with my feelings for you,” he says softly. “A long time ago. If I had hung on to my guilt, I’d have died of stress already.”

Sam laughs dryly. “How optimistic of you.”

“Sorry,” Dean offers, hooking his leg over Sam’s.

Sam only hums in response, closing his eyes. After a few minutes of nothing but Dean’s hand tracing invisible patterns on Sam’s arm, Sam speaks up. 

“I’m gonna miss this.”

“Me too.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

Sam twists so he’s facing Dean, looking up into those green eyes that still seem to shine even in the dark, the light sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks like a shadow. “Love you,” he whispers.

Dean smiles. “Love you too, Sammy.”

In the last week before John is due to arrive, every morning before school Sam finds a way to make the moments in bed drag on for as long as they are able. He always wakes up before Dean, sometimes just watching him sleep, other times kissing his way down Dean’s torso until Dean’s cock is at attention before he himself is. Sam can’t help but grin at Dean’s sleepily surprised face when he looks down to find Sam’s mouth around him. Sam has come to figure out that Dean always wakes up just moments before he comes; not crucial information, but definitely useful.

Sam spends breakfast teasing Dean as he cooks; he doesn’t always make food for the both of them. Sometimes Sam will put out some cereal for them, other times they’ll stop at a gas station on the way to school. But Sam loves when Dean makes breakfast, because those are the mornings that seem the longest. When Dean hums a tune without realizing it, dipping in and out of the fridge for eggs or cheese, flipping the bacon as his feet tap on the linoleum floor. 

“You’re singing,” Sam will say to Dean, grinning as he sits at the table, watching his brother with no abandon. 

“I’m not,” Dean will say back, pausing his song to reply but going right back to it when he’s finished. 

“Metallica,” Sam will point out, humming the tune back to him as proof.

Dean will look at Sam in mock surprise, squinting as if confused. “How do you know that song? You hate Metallica!”

And Sam will laugh, and maybe Dean will throw some shredded cheese at him and the morning will end up with them both covered in omelet ingredients, forced upstairs to change into clean clothes.

Sam loves those mornings. They last the longest.

If Dean notices Sam’s urgency to save time, he doesn’t comment. Sam’s grateful, because he doesn’t know what he would do if confronted. He focuses on Dean instead, the looks given to him in the hallways at school, that say “we have a secret and no one will ever know,” the looks that flood him with heat and get him through the day. He savors those walks home under the green trees of the residential streets, the breeze on his face and the stolen brushes of Dean’s hand on his when no one is around. 

When there are four days left in the little house on Saturn Avenue, Dean convinces Sam to skip the last few days of school.

“I thought you would put up more of a fight,” Dean says, his eyes tracking the movements of Sam’s hands as they take off his pants.

“So you want me to want to go to school?” Sam asks, raising his eyebrow as he takes of his shirt, smirking as Dean blinks a few times as he takes in Sam’s bare torso. No matter how self-conscious Sam gets for never getting used to Dean’s appearance, it seems Dean is the same way with him.

“I don’t want you to want to do anything,” Dean says slowly. “I want you to want to do your own thing.” He frowns. “But only if you… want.”

Sam laughs. “I want to be with you rather than at school,” he says honestly. “Okay?”

Dean doesn’t answer, instead picking up Sam and throwing him playfully on the mattress, taking off his underwear, exposing his growing erection.

“Socks?” Sam says, waving a leg in the air, the white fabric that reaches mid-calf stark against his skin.

“Leave them on,” Dean growls, lowering himself to the bed.

He fucks Sam from behind that night, his hand tracing all the way from his sock covered feet, up his legs, across his thighs to his hips, where he puts one hand there by his ass and the other on his stomach, pulling their bodies together, back to chest. Sam clutches Dean’s arm as he comes, body trembling, a silent cry on his lips as his come spills onto the bed. He doesn’t care when they fall asleep in the mess, both heavy with exhaustion and dizzy with happiness.

“I’ll clean it in the morning,” Dean mumbles into Sam’s hair as they tumble into sleep.

They spend their ditch days mostly in bed, either sleeping off their fucking or fucking off their sleeping. And when they aren’t fucking or sleeping, they are tangled in each other’s arms, whispering, plans for how they’ll make time for moments like this on the road, among other things. Sometimes their conversations aren’t so serious. One day, Dean asks Sam about what he would do if he had a free night to do anything in the world. No hunting, no Dad, not even Dean, if he wanted. Sam smacks Dean hard for that.

“If I had a free night to do anything,” Sam says, “and Dad wasn’t there? What in the hell would I do if you _weren’t_ there?”

They concoct the perfect night, and by the end of their day dream, as they get up from bed for the first time in what must be a day to get something to eat, Sam asks, “would that be a date?”

It just comes out. His eyes widen, and he turns red, embarrassment flooding through him. He opens his mouth to take it back, but then—

“Would you _want_ to go on a date?” Dean asks, completely serious, from across the room as he pulls on some sweats.

Sam can’t seem to say a single word. He shrugs instead, turning away to inspect his reflection in the mirror like it’s the first time he’s seen it. Dean comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist and laying his chin on the top of Sam’s head.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Dean chuckles. “You know, as many girls as I used to hang out with,” Sam glares at Dean through the mirror at this, but Dean continues on without noticing, “I haven’t actually been on a real, decent date.”

“Liar.”

Dean laughs. “I’m serious!” He spins Sam around to face him. “The moment we get another chance like this, when Dad is gone and we’ve got some time, we’ll have that perfect night. Okay?”

Sam only nods, bewildered. “Remember when you didn’t care about a thing and never even had things like ‘date’ in your vocabulary?” 

Dean smiles, almost a little sadly. “I never didn’t care, Sammy.”

__

The night before Sam and Dean are due to leave, the house phone rings.

Sam’s head snaps up from Dean’s lap, where it was resting while they were watching some old movie reruns on TV. Dean’s body stiffens, and both boys stare at the phone as it continues to ring, as if the idea of a phone had never even occurred to them.

“Maybe he’s running late,” Sam says hopefully. Dean rises from the couch, approaching the phone slowly. “If we’re lucky, he’ll need another week. Maybe more.”

Dean looks back at Sam, looking more serious than he has the entire time they’ve been here. It’s the face he wears whenever their father is around. The face of the unsure son, awaiting his father’s orders. 

“When have the Winchesters ever been lucky?” he asks, and picks up the phone. Sam winces at the words, looking back at the TV screen blankly.

He listens to Dean’s words of assent, the low, no nonsense tone of his voice. Even before Dean hangs up, he knows the call wasn’t about an extension of time. Sam feels his heart plummet, even though he never should have gotten his hopes up in the first place.

Sam hears the phone click eventually, the soft padding of Dean’s feet as he makes his way back to the couch. 

“When?” Sam asks.

“Around seven tomorrow morning.”

Sam nods, his hands clenching into fists. “Not wasting any time, huh.” Not a question.

Dean clears his throat, sitting down carefully next to Sam. “He already has another job.” Sam waits for the details. And because Dean pauses for so long, he can already expect the next words out of his mouth. “He wants me with him this time.”

Sam closes his eyes, trying to breathe. Trying to convince himself that he _knew_ this was coming, knew from the beginning, that all good things must come to an end. But his chest feels tight and his throat feels blocked and all he can thing is _why does Dean have to leave me?_

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Dean pulls him to his chest, his soft murmurings of comfort like a dull buzzing in his ears, there but not truly distinguishable. Sam hates himself for crying. He hates himself for expecting so much when he should know by now that _this_ is the life. This is how it’s always been and just because he and Dean are together, it doesn’t mean anything will change. But he hates this life. He hates it with all his heart. And he knows that if he could, if he had the power and the strength, if he wasn’t only 14, he would walk out right now. He would run away and leave the life behind.

Would Dean go with him?

Sam calms himself down, and when his tears stop falling, he leans back and kisses Dean with everything he has. He pushes aside his hate for hunting, his frustration at his father, his resentment of having to live on the road. He pushes it all aside until there’s nothing left but Dean, Dean, Dean.

That night, as the sun disappears completely and the stars wink into existence one by one, Dean fucks into Sam slowly. The mattress is bare, only a single sheet on it. Dean lays Sam down in the center of the bed, and Sam closes his eyes and focuses on every single one of Dean’s kisses on his body. He pays attention to the spread of warmth as Dean thrusts, slow and gently, his legs thrown over both of Dean’s shoulders.

“I love you,” Dean says, not whispering, but clearly, firmly, right into Sam’s ear. “I love you so goddamn much, Sam.” He pushes into Sam, holding him close, and Sam holds Dean back, his heart expanding with each movement inside of him, with each one of Dean’s words. “I’m with you until the end, Sammy. You and me, no matter what.”

“Dean,” Sam whispers, his brain flooded only with his brother, nothing but his brother, as his legs begin to twitch and his cock throbs with pleasure. 

“No matter what,” Dean says, his thrusts faster now, but still gently, each one filled with a million unspoken words. “No matter what, it’ll always be us. Okay, Sammy? Do you get that?”

And Sam believes him, more than anything, he believes him. The attachment Sam has to Dean, the depth of his willingness to do anything for him, he knows Dean feels the same. He knows, just as much as he knows he would die for Dean, that Dean would do the same for him.

As Dean’s hips move, his cock moving into Sam again and again, the pressure and heat building and growing until there is nothing else, Sam holds on to Dean as tight as he can. As they come, together this time, Sam whispers Dean’s name with every ounce of love he can muster. And as they fall asleep, Dean kissing Sam’s forehead, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his lips and his lips and his lips, Sam smiles. He’ll take these small moments regardless of what else lies ahead.

“No matter what,” Sam whispers.

“No matter what,” Dean replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter has come to an end. I hope you guys liked it! I'll try super duper hard to get the next chapter out at a reasonable time! Also I'm considering a twitter page more and more because I like to talk about my writing and you guys definitley deserve an update when I'm not posting chapters regularly. I just need to know if there are people who would actually care?  
> Lol ANYWAY don't forget to leave a kudos and a comment! I love hearing from you guys so much, you have no idea.  
> Until next time!  
> xoxo DancesWithFiends


	10. Fear and Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night adventure doesn't go the way the boys had planned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the Good Days! I hope you all like this chapter. I think it's just a -tiny- bit shorter than the last few, though not by much, and I'm hoping the next chapter gets to be longer. And I'm sorry in advance for the feelings. (In case you haven't noticed, I updated the tags to this story just a bit. Oops.)  
> And just so you guys know, I DO have a twitter set up for this story now! It would be amazing if you gave it a follow! It'll be listed at the end of this chapter :)  
> I dedicate this chapter to my best friend Dani, who gave me some of the best ideas I've ever heard <3  
> Please enjoy! Love you all <3  
> 

Dean tips a cautious toe into the water, hands curled into fists at his side as he prepares for the frigid temperature. 

“Stop being such a baby,” Sam laughs from the pool, submerged from the neck down in the twinkling waters. “It’s not that cold.”

Dean’s face twists up as his foot meets what might as well be liquefied ice. Is that even possible, liquefied ice? He supposes that must just be… ice. Either way, the water is fucking freezing, and there is absolutely no way in hell he’s getting into that pool. 

“How are you not dying of hypothermia right now?” Dean asks, toying with the front of his swim shorts. Sam had picked them out for him a few days ago at a crappy store a few blocks from their motel, along with his own pair. It was a bargain, and Dean had though “what the hell” and spent the measly six bucks for each of their swimsuits. Dad wouldn’t notice the loss. Now, as the fabric itches uncomfortably against his thighs, he realizes the obvious reason for such cheap clothing.

“Because I’m not a baby,” Sam quips, slipping beneath the surface before Dean can retort. He watches the distorted shape of Sam drift under the surface, but he can still somehow feel Sam’s eyes on him, even from where he stands at the edge of the pool. He sighs, knowing he should just get on with it. Sam will get him in regardless, either by physically dragging him in or pulling those goddamn _eyes_ on him the next time he comes up for air. So, rubbing his hands together in a lame attempt to conserve his warmth, Dean takes a few steps back before running and leaping into the air.

He hits the water with a splash that gets cut off as he submerges, the shock of cold making him want to gasp, but he holds his breath as he sinks to the bottom of the pool, willing himself to get used to it. After a few moments he opens his eyes, his vision blurred and irritated within seconds because of the chlorine, but he spots Sam’s form in the illuminated water, close enough to touch. So he reaches out and grabs him around the legs.

Sam immediately starts to thrash, and before Dean inhales gallons of water from laughing underwater, he releases Sam and pushing up towards the surface.

“You’re an ass,” Sam says the moment he comes up, but when Dean rubs the water from his eyes, he sees Sam looking at him with a grin. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Sam’s smile grows, his eyes wide and sort of green in this light. “Yeah,” he whispers, pushing closer to Dean with ease, “you are.”

The mediocre pool of their motel isn’t technically open this time of night, but the lights underneath are shining, casting the brothers in an almost ethereal glow, shadows of the moving water cast upon their bodies. Dean can’t help wondering why, at the many motels that had pools before now, they had never gone night swimming. Seeing Sam like this makes him want to do it again and again.

“So,” Dean says conversationally, looking away from the water droplets collected on Sam’s lips, and leans back to float casually along the surface of the water. “This was your _brilliant_ plan. What now?” 

He doesn’t need to look over to know Sam is rolling his eyes, and that makes Dean smile. 

After a seemingly contemplative pause, Sam answers. “We swim,” he says plainly. “You weren’t expecting anything else, were you?” His tone clearly suggests the obvious.

Dean glances over and watches, almost in a trance, as the water clings to Sam’s body and drips off his hair. He wants to run his fingers through the strands, to tug just hard enough to draw a sweet moan from Sam’s lips. To kiss his neck as his head falls back, the hot skin pressing against Dean’s mouth…

But Dean snaps himself out of it, deciding to play along.

“’Course not,” he answers, closing his eyes in nonchalance. “I was only expecting some innocent late-night swimming with my baby brother. Nothing more, nothing less.” He waits a beat, listening to the noises of movement that Sam makes in the water. “ _You_ weren’t expecting something else, I hope.”

“Nope,” Sam says, the noises getting louder now. Dean smiles, sensing Sam getting closer to him. He opens his eyes as he feels water lapping at his sides. “Water feels nice.”

Dean gives a hum of agreement, pretending to lose himself in the water. It’s not so cold now, actually. The goosebumps on his arms have faded, and looking up at the sky, he can see the moon where it peaks out faintly behind the murky gray clouds.

A few minutes must pass, without a word spoken. Dean can hear soft splashes from where Sam moves around, one moment close enough to feel the currents Sam makes, the next farther away so he can only just hear him. He can sense Sam’s growing restlessness, but doesn’t make any move to ease it. He likes this unspoken game that they play sometimes, the one where they try to get the other to break first. To see who can last the longest when they both know they’re alone, finally, that they don’t have to hide their touches and glances and whispered words.

Eventually he hears a sigh, and a slight prod at his leg. He can’t help the smile on his lips as he raises his head to see Sam frowning by his foot. Dean knew he’d give in first. Sam frowns, exasperated, as Dean raises an eyebrow, continuing to play dumb.

“Dean,” he whines.

“Yes?”

“Dean.”

“Sam.”

“Come on!”

“What? Do you want to play Marco Polo?”

That earns him a smack across his thigh, and he gives a short bark of laughter as he puts his weight back on his feet, facing Sam. “Come here already,” Sam says, crossing his arms. And then he pouts, his eyes dropping to look at the water sliding against his arms, and Dean can only move closer, his heart skipping a beat.

“Alright,” he concedes, reaching a hand out, tilting Sam’s chin up with a finger. “I’m here, Sammy.” 

Sam leans into him, his arms still crossed, still looking down, but Dean wraps his arms around him and tugs him close, holding him flush against his chest. “It’s been a week,” Sam mumbles, and Dean can feel his mouth move against his skin.

“I know,” he replies, and he really does. 

Dad hasn’t stopped for a job in a while now, insisting on a lead with something concerning their mother. He hasn’t said much about it, not even to Dean, and whatever it is, it’s meant shared motel rooms with their father and practically no time alone. 

The days have been spent driving, random stops at dive bars and ramshackle houses while Sam and Dean waited in the car. Sometimes just Sam, while Dean is sent to get one thing or another from a convenience store. And then they are back on the road again. John has slept at each of the various motel rooms for the entire night, in a strange turn of events. A night or two ago, Sam, fed up and annoyed, had had the courage to ask John why he wasn’t out getting shit faced. He used those exact words, while Dean’s eyes widened in horror, ready to jump in between them and defuse the situation. But John had just scrubbed a hand down his face before turning the page in a large volume he was reading. 

“No time,” he had said, looking more tired than usual. And that shut Sam and Dean both up.

A large intake of breath from the boy in his arms brings Dean back to the present. 

“Do you think he really has something?” Sam asks, voice small.

“I want to say yes,” Dean says honestly. “But I doubt it. The last time this happened—”

“It was a month before he gave up. I know.” Sam finally looks up at Dean, arms unwinding to wrap up and around Dean’s neck. “I can’t last a month,” he whispers, and Dean shudders.

John is asleep in their room right now, snoring across the couch. Sam and Dean had snuck out of the room the moment the first snore made its way from John’s sleeping body, stuffing their arms with towels and shutting the door as noiselessly as possible behind them. 

“It won’t be that long,” Dean says, pressing his forehead to Sam’s. He doesn’t know that for sure, of course, but he figures if he believes in his words enough, things will work out. 

How stupid, he thinks. 

He lets out a breath and kisses Sam softly on the forehead. “And it’s not like we’ve gone dry,” he points out, trying to lighten the mood.

Sam huffs, wiggling in Dean’s embrace. “I know that,” he grumbles. “But still. There’s only so much we can do with Dad around all the time.”

“So needy,” Dean jokes, and Sam juts his chin into Dean’s chest. “Ow!”

“Keep it down,” Sam whispers, smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t want to get caught.”

“We’re not doing anything _bad_ ,” Dean says, hands slipping lower on Sam’s back, the slickness of the water allowing his hands a smooth decent. 

“Right,” Sam scoffs, even as he trembles when Dean’s hands move to cup his ass underneath the water. “We only broke into the motel office, stole the pool keys, and then broke into the pool area.”

“Just a normal Wednesday,” Dean chuckles, pressing another kiss to Sam’s forehead before laying another one on his temple, then his cheek, the bridge of his nose, before ghosting his lips across Sam’s mouth. “And don’t forget out public displays of indecency,” he breathes.

Sam sighs, his breath hitting hot on Dean’s face. Sam’s eyes are shut, his hands tight around Dean’s neck as he waits expectantly for Dean to close the mere centimeters of space between them. Dean simply watches Sam breathing through the slight part of his lips, his head upturned slightly. His heart thumps hard in his chest, his blood racing, growing hot. He wants to kiss Sam, hard and unabashed. He wants to push Sam to the edge of the pool, press him up against the stone as he kisses him senseless. He wants to make the most of the time they have while their Dad sleeps, and even though they can’t go all the way (Dean refuses while John is within walking distance, much to Sam’s annoyance), they can go pretty damn close if they’re careful about it.

So, naturally, Dean leans in, and just as their lips touch—

“Marco.”

Sam’s eyes snap open as Dean pulls away before Sam processes what he said, watching in rising amusement as Sam grows angrier the farther Dean gets in the pool.

“Dean!” he all but shrieks, already splashing toward him, and Dean howls with laughter as he tries to shush him.

“Too loud!” Dean wheezes, clutching his stomach as he tries to put more distance between them. “And you’re supposed to say Polo!”

“Dean I swear to God,” Sam says, voice quieter but only by a little, which doesn’t even matter because the way he’s splashing as he tries to catch Dean is probably going to get them found out in seconds.

So Dean, giving one last laugh, allows Sam to tackle him in the water, scooping Sam up as Sam throws his arms around his neck once more, and then he presses his lips – finally – to Sam’s mouth.

Sam kisses back hard, hungrily, his mouth insistent and forceful, erasing all laughter from Dean’s belly. Sam twines his fingers almost painfully into Dean’s hair as he bites at Dean’s bottom lip, wasting no time in swiping his tongue, hot and wet, against Dean’s mouth. Dean can only open up for him and hold Sam tighter as their tongues meet, messily, fumbling in Sam’s rush – hell, in _both_ their rush – and Dean gives a groan as his hair is tugged and his mouth is filled with Sam’s taste.

And then Sam’s legs are wrapping around Dean’s waist, his chest warm and wet against Dean’s, and Dean needs to come up for air, his mind going blank as he stumbles in the water.

“Slow down,” he pants, coming to the edge of the pool, back pressed against the cool smoothness of the stone as he supports Sam in his arms. 

“Don’t want to,” Sam says, moving to Dean’s neck, biting gently at the skin there and making Dean’s toes curl underneath the water. “I think I’ve waiting long enough.” Sam nips again at his neck, and he allows his head to fall back, little currents of warmth traveling throughout his body at each graze of Sam’s teeth.

“Fuck,” he groans, sinking further into the water until it envelopes them both completely, nothing but their heads exposed to the nighttime air. He feels his cock hardening alarmingly fast, and he knows Sam can feel it, pressed hard against his leg. “Sam,” he begs, but Sam ignores him, lips now grazing at his jaw. “Sam,” Dean tries again, “there’s no way I’m coming in the water.”

Sam lets out a breath of laughter as he moves back to Dean’s ear, licking at the shell before he whispers, “who said anything about _you_ coming?” And then he leans back, unwinding a single arm from around Dean’s neck to reach down between their bodies. 

Dean watches, mouth gaping, as Sam fumbles beneath the water, and he knows the moment that Sam has his own cock in his hand; his breath hitches, his eyes close, teeth clamping down to bite on his bottom lip, his head tipping back. And then his hand begins to move.

“Sammy,” Dean says, his voice gravely and low. He can’t stop himself from raking his gaze across Sam’s face, watching the point of Sam’s arm where is disappears under the water. Little tides of water form as Sam moves, and _fuck_ if Dean doesn’t want to just take Sam right now.

Sam’s eyes open slowly, locking on Dean’s almost lazily. A little moan escapes Sam’s mouth, his teeth freeing his bottom lip the second before Dean just about loses it with the force of restraining himself from freeing it on his own. Dean groans, his hands gripping Sam’s waist tight as he watches.

“You can’t come in here either,” Dean warns, though his voice sounds weak even to his own ears. “That would be—” Sam moans again, his mouth curling into a smile as Dean swallows dryly. “That would be…” he continues, slow and stupid as Sam’s eyes close again in what must be a particularly strong wave of pleasure. “Bad,” Dean finishes lamely.

Sam chuckles, soft and airy. “Then stop me,” he tells Dean, eyes opening in challenge. And then his hand begins to move faster, the water splashing just a little more where his arm disturbs the calm. Sam moans again, louder this time, his head falling back as he clearly loses himself to his ministrations. “Dean,” he pants, hips rocking into his own hand. “God, Dean, this feels _so good_. I’m already so close.” His hold tightens around Dean’s neck, pulling him closer, so Dean is right up against Sam’s neck, breathing in his scent.

He doesn’t even consciously lean in, and it’s not until Sam cries out that Dean realizes he’s sucking on his neck, his tongue flicking over the warm skin, slightly tangy with chlorine.

“D-Dean,” Sam whimpers, his breathing erratic against Dean’s chest, his hand shaky underneath the water, and Dean knows he won’t last much longer.

He’s moving to the steps of the pool in a heartbeat, and Sam yelps in surprise as he’s carried out of the water and deposited on the rough floor next to the pool. Dean looks down at Sam, spread out on the wet ground, cock in his hand, shorts barely clinging to his thighs as his chest moves up and down with his heavy breaths. 

“I stopped you,” Dean growls, and then he pulls Sam’s hand away so he can wrap his own around Sam’s cock, unhesitating as he begins to pump him fast and hard, almost violently. 

Sam arches his back into Dean’s touch, eyes squeezed shut as he moans without reserve. Dean curses at his loudness, and kisses him hard to shut him up, just as forceful as before. And then Sam is coming, warmth spilling into his hand, half sobbing as Dean strokes him through his climax, drawing out every bit of his orgasm until Sam is shaking, mewling softly as he finishes.

After a few moments in which Sam seems too stunned to move or say anything, Dean kisses the tip of his nose before sitting up and reaching for a towel they left by one of the chairs, cleaning them both up silently.

Sam sits up carefully, blushing slightly when Dean smirks up at him as he cleans off his chest.

“Shut up,” Sam mutters, slipping his now soft dick back into his shorts.

Dean reaches for a clean towel and bats at Sam’s head playfully with it. “I didn’t say a word.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sam insists, getting slowly to his feet. “It’s all over your face.”

Dean seriously doubts Sam knows a thing, but he enjoys Sam’s embarrassed face all too much to let this go. “Oh yeah?” He rises and wraps the towel around Sam’s shoulders, then pulls him in, nudging his hair playfully with his chin. “What am I thinking?”

“That I can’t last a second without getting off,” Sam says, voice muffled by Dean’s chest. “I have no control and I’m just a needy—”

The unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps interrupts him, and Sam stiffens in Dean’s arms.

“Shit,” Dean curses, grabbing Sam and pushing him further down along the side of the pool. “I knew you were too goddamn loud.”

Sam clutches Dean’s arm, frantically looking around for signs of who might be near, clearly too scared to even comment on Dean’s blame. “Dean,” he whispers urgently. “Who’s—”

“Shh!” he orders, finally reaching a small storage shed at the end of the pool and tugging Sam around the side of it, concealing them from view. Dean holds him close, Sam’s back tight against his chest, an arm wrapping snuggly across his front.

“But—”

The footsteps are louder now, and then the gate to the pool clangs open, and Dean smacks a hand around Sam’s mouth to shut him up.

“Stay quiet,” he hisses in Sam’s ear. He can feel Sam’s breath puffing against the palm of his hand, warm and quick. “Calm down. We’re fine here.”

Sam gives a brief nod, and they both listen as those footsteps stomp at the opposite end of the pool. Dean feels hot and anxious, begging for whoever stands by the pool to dismiss anything they might have heard and leave. Especially since he’s still achingly hard in his shorts, and having Sam pressed up against him is doing absolutely nothing to alleviate it, no matter how much shit they’re about to get into.

“I heard you fellas!” a rough voice suddenly calls, cutting through the silence. Sam squeaks into Dean’s palm, and Dean holds him tighter. “I know you’re here! You better scram before I kick you outta your rooms!”

Dean walks slowly, quietly, backwards down alongside the shed, farther from the lights of the pool. Sam stumbles as he walks with him, the position making it awkward from him to follow, and suddenly he feels Sam’s ass brush against his crotch and he hisses through clenched teeth, his arm tightening around Sam. This is _so_ not the time. He begs silently for his cock to soften.

The man who called out is quite now, and is it just Dean, or are his footsteps getting louder? He tries to focus on the imminent danger, but fuck everything because all he can think about is _Sam,_ who decides that now is the best time to start shifting in his hold.

“Sam, stop moving,” he grits out. Sam huffs into his palm in response, and doesn’t cease his movements. Now is not the time to worry about being uncomfortable, goddamnit. “Sam, you need to— _oh fuck,_ ” Dean groans softly, Sam having just suddenly jutted back his hips right into his rock hard dick.

And _of course_ that’s when Sam freezes. Dean can feel as well as hear him take a sharp intake of breath against his hand. And then, Dean fucking _feels it_ when Sam smiles, big and wide, huffing silent laughter into his palm.

“Oh, you just shut the fuck up,” Dean growls into his ear. 

But Sam just laughs harder, shoulders shaking silently, and then he pushes back into his cock again, and Dean has to lean on Sam a little as sparks of pleasure crash into him. 

“Sam, no,” Dean whispers, voice rough. “In case you missed it, we are about to get caught by a fucking _motel hillbilly_ , and unless you’d—” he’s cut off again as Sam arches his back and presses his ass flush against his crotch, his hips rolling backwards to slide just right over the length of Dean’s erection. He bites his lip against a moan, trying so hard to push his pleasure away, but how the fuck can he even do that?

“I see your towels!” the voice, the _man_ , Dean remembers, the one who’s fucking _about to find them,_ calls out. “Come on, now!”

Sam has the decency to freeze at this, pausing his movements over Dean. Dean takes the opportunity to lean down and bite down on Sam’s ear threateningly, and Sam gasps into his hand.

“Stop teasing,” he warns Sam. “Unless you want to prove your earlier assumptions correct.”

Sam doesn’t answer. How can he, with Dean’s hand over his mouth? But Dean can feel the infinitesimal shift of curiosity, of question.

“When you thought you knew what I was thinking,” he reminds Sam, his voice husky, and he actually _feels_ the heat rising in Sam’s cheeks. “And though that definitely was _not_ what I was thinking, you’re definitely not showing very much control right now.”

Sam takes a deep breath, eventually nodding slowly against Dean’s hand. Dean figures that’s as much of an apology as he’ll get at the moment.

The footsteps grow even closer. The man must be on their side of the pool now. All he needs to do is come inspect the shed and he might find them, but Dean hopes their cover of shadows and the wall of the shed are enough.

Sam’s no longer fucking with him, but he can feel Sam trembling, out of fear or being turned on, he doesn’t know, but he wants to distract him from what might be coming. So he kisses the top of Sam’s head and hums softly in his ear, a short thing, but Sam begins to relax, even as Dean can hear the man, just feet away now, muttering under his breath.

“Do you want to know what I was actually thinking?” he asks Sam, and figures he’s a hypocrite for asking, since he just reprimanded Sam for teasing him. But hell, if it gets Sam to stop being scared, he’ll do it. And it’s not like he’s _touching_ him, after all.

Dean wait until Sam nods, and he can feel Sam’s pulse begin to quicken along his throat. He leans down and kisses it right where it thrums underneath his skin, and Sam shivers. 

“I was thinking,” Dean begins, whispering so softly his voice is merely a breath, “how I love the face you make when you come.” He kisses right below Sam’s ear, even as he feels Sam’s breathing against his palm begin to feel hotter than before. “I was thinking that a week is too long to not be inside you, that even though we can still sneak these moments, I’m waiting for when I can pin you down against the bed again, and fuck you.” He pauses. “Hard.”

Sam swallows audibly, and a soft whine emits from his mouth as Dean’s lips graze the shell of his ear. 

“And the thing I was thinking more than anything?” Dean says, nuzzling his forehead into Sam’s shoulder. “That I fucking love how you can’t stand it either. How you want to touch me just as much as I want to touch you. Because when it comes to you, Sammy…” he smiles as Sam shivers at the title. “I don’t have any control, either.”

Sam leans his head back against Dean’s chest. Breathing hard, but clearly for other reasons than just fear. He can sense Sam’s eyes on him in the dark, and he kisses Sam’s forehead blindly, smiling against his skin.

“Come on, you,” the rough voice mutters suddenly, and once again Dean freezes. The man sounds as if he’s standing right by the shed now. Dean holds his breath, and Sam clutches at Dean’s arm with both hands as their bodies wind tight with the urge to run. But they don’t move, breathing quietly through their noses as the footsteps move closer, closer, until Dean can see the dim outline of a body pass where they hide.

Neither of them move. Sam is practically not even breathing, and Dean can’t blame him; his heart if roaring in his chest and he prays the man doesn’t hear it.

But the man doesn’t look their way. The body moves on, continuing to mutter, now moving down the other edge of the pool.

Sam lets out a breath, long and steady, and it hits Dean’s palm and lets him relax as well. They wait, utterly silent now, Dean hoping for the telltale sound of the gate opening in sign of the man leaving. 

They wait. It’s the only thing they can do. Sam relaxes with each minute that passes, and Dean eventually removes his hand from his mouth, loosening his arm from around Sam’s chest. Sam takes the opportunity to turn in his arms, grabbing into Dean’s waist and digging his face into his chest, right underneath Dean’s chin. Dean winds his arms around Sam, and they stand like that, Dean listening to the sound of their breaths.

The clang of the gate sounds suddenly. It makes Sam jump, and Dean chuckles, even though his heart may have stopped at the sound, too. 

“Can we go?” Sam whispers, lips tickling where they brush against Dean’s collar bone.

“Just a few more minutes,” Dean replies. “Just in case. He could be waiting right outside.”

Sam nods. After a few beats of silence, he looks up at Dean. “Can I suck you off, then?” he asks, so quietly and innocent that Dean almost chokes.

“Sam, that’s really not a goo—”

“Just stay quiet,” Sam taunts, grinning, sinking down to his knees. Dean watches as the grin turns to something like awe as he looks at Dean’s crotch, his cock still ready and waiting.

“You were the one who got us into this mess,” Dean breathes as he watches Sam tug at Dean’s shorts, slipping them down until they pool around his feet.

“Hm?” Sam hums, and Dean gasps as he feels Sam’s hot breath against his cock. “How’s that?” Sam asks, sounding so fucking amused that Dean wants to grab his hair and tug him towards his throbbing member right fucking _now_.

“You convinced me to s-steal the keys,” Dean stammers as Sam licks a hot line up his shaft. He can feel Sam’s fingers digging into his thighs. “And then you wouldn’t stop splashing and moaning for all the world to hear.” 

Instead of replying, Sam simply takes Dean whole, swallowing him down in one smooth movement and causing Dean’s head to slam back against the shed. His eyes fall shut, and white-hot sparks flash behind his eyes.

Sam moans around his length, the vibrations almost causing Dean’s knees to buckle, and he somehow finds a way to get his hand into Sam’s hair, holding tight onto the strands. Then Sam’s tongue suddenly flickers out against Dean’s slit, and the pleasure that crashes into Dean has him swallowing a groan with all the strength he has left.

Dean lets his head hang forward and watches Sam bob up and down over him through hooded eyes. And when Sam rises to suck harshly on his tip, lips parting to show Dean’s pre-come along his tongue, he looks up at Dean, eyes wide and the hint of a smirk playing across his mouth, and Dean falls over the edge. He spills into Sam’s mouth as he clutches at his hair tightly, and as Sam swallows down everything he has to offer, Dean can’t help feeling like he never wants to let go. Of this. Of _Sam_. And he knows if he plays his cards right, he’ll never have to.

__

 

They run back to the motel room, laughing as loudly as they dare after almost being caught by God knows who, playfully shoving each other and stealing kisses in little pockets of shadow. When they reach their door, they fall silent, and Dean quietly unlocks the door and peaks inside. 

It’s dark, the lights still off and the room silent. He deems it clear and ushers Sam inside, slipping in behind him and shutting the door softly behind him, bolting it and sliding the chain carefully into place.

“Dean,” Sam whispers.

“We should get in bed,” Dean answers quietly, a grin on his face as he checks the locks one more time and then peeks out the window by habit, making sure everything is calm outside. “Early morning tomorrow, probably.” Dean finally turns towards Sam, still feeling slightly euphoric from his orgasm and how much fun he had tonight. 

But all that drips coldly from his body, his smile sliding off his face as he sees Sam standing tense and alert in front of him, staring dead ahead of them at their father, who sits with his hands clutching the arm chair on the far side of the room, swathed in darkness. Very much awake. And looking pissed.

“Dad,” Dean chokes, taking a stumbling step. 

John’s nose flares, his fingers twitching over the armrests. Dean watches as his eyes inspect them both, catching on their swimsuits, the towels in their hands, their wet hair.

“I was about to go out to look for you both,” John says, voice hard. He jerks his chin towards the coffee table. 

Dean follows his gaze and finds a shot gun lying there, loaded and ready. He swallows heavily, looking back at John, willing himself to calm down. He doesn’t dare speak, instead taking another careful step to stand next to Sam, brushing his shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting touch.

“I thought I raised you boys right,” John growls, and Dean’s heart stops. He doesn’t allow himself to think, to guess. He simply stares at a spot behind John’s head, not daring to look away. He can feel Sam’s fear, palpable beside him. Before was nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , compared to this. That was thrilling, exciting. This is a douse in cold water. A lack of oxygen. Going in blind.

“You leave the room. Leave the _salt lines,_ without a word. _Nothing._ And I wake up to find you gone. What in the hell was I supposed to think?” John’s voice is still dangerously calm, and that is somehow worse than when he shouts. 

Dean tries to slow his heart, his breathing, but he can’t. He feels a crushing fear that he only ever feels because of his father. And he hates it. He _hates_ it. This helplessness. This terror.

“I’m sorry,” Dean hears from next to him, sounding small and so very, very defeated. He looks over to see Sam practically hunched in on himself, and no, no that fear he thought he hated so much is _nothing_ compared to the pang in his chest, the outright twisting stab that he gets seeing Sam like this. So afraid. 

And this brings him courage. This makes him take a deep breath and face his father. 

And he speaks.

He speaks because of Sam.

“It was my fault,” Dean says, voice coming out stronger than he thought it would. John looks at him with a look like ice, but Dean continues. “I convinced him to go out and swim. I thought it would be fun, a break from traveling so much lately. I didn’t think. You were asleep and I thought you wouldn’t notice.”

He takes a deep breath, ignoring the glare he feels coming from Sam, burning into the side of his head. 

“Damn right you didn’t think,” John snaps, voice rising for the first time since they entered the room. “You need to be better than this, Dean. You _know_ what can be out there. And you deliberately disobeyed.”

Dean nods, refusing to look away, to admit to his climbing anxiety of what John will do in retaliation. _Not Sam,_ Dean silently begs. _Whatever it is, just not to Sam._

John looks over both of them again, his look calculated and no less full of fury. “Sam,” he says eventually, and Dean stiffens, hands curling into fists. “What do you have to say about this,” he asks, a question and yet not.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, still not looking directly at John. “I-I won’t do it again. I promise.”

John looks at him a moment longer before nodding, stiff and brief, before looking back at Dean. “Come here,” he says, and Dean walks forward, purposefully, eyes not quite meeting his father’s, but not looking away, either. 

John grabs him by his face, fingers digging painfully into his cheeks. The unspoken promise of what he could do, what he _has_ done, to Dean in the past for things like this lays heavy in the air. Dean hears Sam cry out softly behind him, but he holds out a hand discreetly, willing him, _begging_ him, not to get in the middle of this.

“If you ever pull something like this again,” John swears, voice severe and unrelenting, “you won’t be getting off this easy.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean says, teeth clenched, still at the mercy of his father. He stands there, staring his father down, until John pushes him away.

“Get to bed,” he says, brushing past Dean. “We’re up in a few hours.”

And then John leaves, the motel door slamming shut behind him.

Dean lets out a long breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, but then the air is knocked out of him as Sam plows into him, arms tight around his neck and face buried in his chest. Sam’s shoulders shake, he’s _crying_ , Dean realizes, and he can only wrap his arms tight around Sam’s waist and hold him, hold him with all he’s worth.

He sinks to the ground, Sam still in his arms, still sobbing into his chest. He can feel the hot tears sliding down his skin, and he closes his eyes against the pain the blooms in his heart.

“Shh, Sammy,” Dean comforts, running a hand in slow circles across Sam’s back. “Shh, it’s okay now. It’s _okay_.”

Sam says something unintelligible against him through his tears, and Dean only shushes him again, pressing kisses to the top of his head. 

“It’s okay, Sam. Nothing happened. You’re okay.”

“How could you just take the blame like that!” Sam suddenly yells, pushing against Dean, looking up at him with round, wet eyes. “I dragged you out there! I made _you_ go! How could you tell him—”

“There was no way,” Dean interrupts, voice rough, “ _no way_ I was letting you take the fall for me.” He looks down at Sam determinedly, into those hazel eyes and cheeks streaked with tears, and wills him to understand. He doesn’t say another word, letting the silence speak for him. 

He watches as another silent tear makes its way down Sam’s check, and Dean leans in without a sound and licks it from his skin. Sam shudders, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, lips wobbling as Dean watches him fight another wave of sobs. “I’m so sorry Dean.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean murmurs, leaning in close to brush his nose lightly across Sam’s. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Sam takes a deep breath, shaky but deep, and his exhale hits Dean in a warm puff. “I was so scared,” Sam says eventually, opening his eyes. “I hate when he gets like that. I can’t… _do_ anything. I thought he was going t-to _hit_ you, and I can’t—” his voice breaks, and Dean tugs him in closer, kissing him softly on the lips.

“Even if he had,” Dean says, quiet and sure, “at least it wouldn’t have been you.”

“No,” Sam says, shaking his head. “No, Dean. No, I—”

“Don’t argue,” Dean says lightly, nudging him with his nose. “Don’t. Because that’s never going to change. I’m never going to stop being there, between you and whatever wants to hurt you. Even if that’s Dad.”

Sam begins to cry again, quieter, but all the sadder. Dean can’t think of another word. He feels so damn _sad_ that he has to see Sam like this. It fills up his chest and practically breaks his heart. And even though all he can do to ease Sam’s pain in hold him close, and whisper in his ear, and kiss his warm skin, he hopes it is enough. At least for now. It rips Dean apart, but he hopes. And hopes.

He hopes, and when Sam falls asleep in his arms, he carries him carefully to the bed, dressing him gently in a clean oversized shirt (one of his own), and then changes himself before slipping into the bed across from his. He wishes he could lay next to him all night, but he settles for watching as Sam’s eyelids move with his dreams.

__

The next day finds the Winchesters speeding along the highway at the crack of dawn. Sam has been quiet, not sparing a glance toward John, but he clutches Dean’s hand where it lays between them on the bench. He’s staring out the window, but every now and then, Dean feels a squeeze, a reminder of Sam’s worry.

Dean looks out his own window, squeezing Sam’s hand back every time in response. His thoughts drift toward those days spent in the house on Saturn Avenue, almost a month ago, now. He misses the days woken up to Sam splayed across him, the nights falling asleep with the taste of Sam on his tongue. He misses the carelessness of it all, the casual happiness that he and Sam were able to find all on their own. He misses how Sam would laugh for minutes straight, his eyes bordered with tears, but the _good_ kind, and how Dean could lose himself in that sound.

Sam squeezes. He squeezes back.

There’s been no news of whatever lead John is chasing, not that there was much in the beginning. It’s killing him that he doesn’t know, and the stress Sam must feel from not knowing as well is somehow worse. 

He hopes, though it may be selfish, that this lead is a dead end. That’s not to say he doesn’t want to know what killed his mother; that couldn’t be farther from the truth. But Dean wants simplicity, as much as he can get in this life. And when they aren’t chasing the ghosts of their mother’s death, their life _is_ simple. And he just wants it to go back to how it should be. Dad off on a job. Him and Sam by themselves. How it _should_ be.

Sam squeezes. He squeezes back.

Dean watches the scenery pass by in a blur, letting his thoughts wander, every now and then looking over at Sam, sometimes catching his eye. He offers a smile when this happens, and Sam returns it, no matter how small it may be. He’s strong, Dean thinks. So goddamn strong.

And Dean looks at his little brother, and hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going places I wasn't expecting. But I like it. The next chapter will probably have a time jump, but I'm not planning on it being too drastic, don't worry!  
> TWITTER: DanceswFiends  
> Thank you for your continued support!  
> xoxo DancesWithFiends


	11. The (Not So Stupid) Scarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's birthday is coming up, and Sam desperately wants to make it special. But he isn't so sure that this new idea of his will work or just end up being nothing but stupid...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, folks. Chapter 11. Long overdue, I KNOW, but it's okay now because I am HERE. This chapter is cute and sexy and KINKY, too. A great mix, I think! And also! In case you missed my update that I posted last chapter, make sure you read the notes at the end of this chapter to know the details for the future of this fic.  
> Anyway, I like this chapter. I think it's very much needed after last chapter, considering all the sadness. So please, enjoy! I hope it's as exciting to read as it was to write :)  
> LOVE YOU ALL.

_-Several Months Later-_

Sam stares at the shop display, frowning. This is stupid. This whole idea is stupid. The fact that he even for a second entertained this stupid spur of the moment scheme is just so _stupid_. 

He wonders why he even made such an effort in getting here, anyway, to the dead center of town when he knows damn well he’s not even supposed to leave the motel. But he figures himself lucky that John plopped him down in the middle of a busy area for once, at least busy enough to have a shopping center that consists of more than just a general store and a gas station. And considering the date, how close it is to the day Sam’s been thinking about for just about _forever_ , he’d be stupid not to take advantage.

So he found a public bus that would take him to the nearby outdoor mall, only a convenient twenty five minutes away, and made his way through the various stores in search of something that would fit his… plans. If that was the right thing to call this (probably) stupid idea that Sam had thought up a few days ago. It was right before Dean and their Dad had left for a job, that they were still currently on, much to Sam’s annoyance. Then again, he reminds himself, if not for their absence, this little idea of his would never come to be. And God, does he _really_ want this to work out. Even if it is… well, stupid. 

He _really_ doesn’t want it to be stupid.

He tried to convince himself to follow through as he spoke to Dean the previous night. Sam doesn’t remember exactly what Dean talked about, about what he and Dad were hunting or where they even _were_ at the moment. If Sam is being honest, he tuned that part of their conversation out. All he could think was, _this plan will be worth it_ , as he listened to the rumbling timbre of Dean’s voice in his ear. He only started to truly focus again once Dean started talking about plans for his return. 

Dean’s birthday is soon, really soon, and the exact reason why Sam had made his way to the goddamn mall. If their Dad ever found out he had left the motel room…

When Sam and Dean had spoken, Dean told Sam he was praying to every single god he didn’t believe in that they would be alone for his nineteenth. Sam had laughed, agreeing with him wholeheartedly. It somehow felt like ages since he and Dean were alone last, at least for more than a few days. The past few months were a jumble of half-formed leads on their mother’s killer and odd jobs across the country. Dean had been away for a lot of them, more than Sam would have hoped, but life, at the moment, wasn’t complete shit. He and Dean were given their moments. A handful of days here and there, sometimes a few weeks if they were lucky.

But this time, Sam was hoping for something different. Some time to slow down, truly slow down, in the way they hadn’t been able to since Saturn Avenue.

And Sam had thought it weird, for just a brief moment, that he was wishing for their own father to be gone on such a meaningful day. Sam still remembers the days when he would stay up until the latest hour that he could on his own birthday, waiting for John to come back, to spend time with him. But he never did.

So it was just that, a brief moment. Sam had no guilt about wanting his Dad to be somewhere else when the time came. The days when he would hope for John’s presence on important dates ended at around the same time that it clicked in his brain that John being there wouldn’t make a difference. In fact, it would probably just be worse. Even if John was not on a job, he would probably be cracked-out drunk. 

So it’s better for him to be gone. And when Sam thought about it after hanging up with Dean, he realized he was completely fine with it. Neither him nor Dean needs John there to be happy. In fact, they would be happier if he _wasn’t_ there. And besides, Sam thinks to himself with no small amount of smugness, he can make Dean happy all by himself. 

Which brings Sam to the matter at hand, staring through the glass in front of him, contemplating if his idea is as great as he initially thought it was or just plain _stupid_.

The scarves that hang from the lithe fingers of the store mannequin sway in the air-conditioning of the small boutique Sam is loitering in front of. They come in different designs, not that this especially matters, but they also vary in length and width of cloth. That, Sam decides, matters just a tiny bit more. 

The store is clearly geared more toward young women, the racks that Sam can glimpse from outside filled with warm colors and simple designs, dresses and blouses and skirts. He can feel his cheeks heat up at walking in there, let alone actually _buying_ something, but out of all the other stores Sam has been in, this one is the only one that even closely fits his needs. 

He glances at the entrance of the store, then back at the scarves, debating. He can be in and out in just a few minutes if he does this right. Just scoop a few scarves off the pile and pay, no big deal. He’ll leave the designs and the measurements to chance. It’s not like it will be that important, anyway.

Sam squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, patting his pocket where he has a few crumpled up bills, and walks into the store. 

He cringes when a few whimsical chimes sound his arrival, but he doesn’t stop, making a beeline for the display where the scarves are gathered just a few feet away.

“Hi!” Sam hears from behind him, and he curses softly before turning towards the voice. He’s greeted with a small, smiley woman who looks too friendly for her own good. She tilts her head as she takes Sam in, the only indication she gives at her surprise of a teenage boy entering the store, but otherwise she’s unperturbed. “Is there anything I can help you with?” she chirps.

“Uh,” Sam blurts, his hands twitching at his sides, suddenly awkward and unsure of himself. “I, uh, j-just…” he glances at the scarves and then back toward the woman. “Scarves,” he finishes.

The woman, if it’s possible, smiles even wider. “Oh! That’s our new collection. We have over a dozen different designs and each one comes in three different styles. What were you looking for?”

Sam tries desperately to keep his expression from twisting up as he struggles to reply. “Doesn’t really… matter,” he mumbles, taking a discreet step back. “I can, uh, manage.”

The woman nods, smile impeccable and unmoving across her features. “No problem! Take your time. I’ll be up front when you’re ready!”

Sam nods as she practically skips away, letting out a huge breath when he’s finally left alone. He turns back to the scarf display, realizing now that the scarves are all individually knotted and lying neatly on a table, the smaller sizes leading up the big, all arranged by design. 

He glances behind him, making sure that lady really is gone, and allows himself to inspect the scarves. He’s already been found in here; spending a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

He traces his fingertips across the cloth of one of the scarves. It’s soft, he finds, which is good. Perfect, actually. He unwraps one, spreading it out on the table and assessing its length. It isn’t too long, probably just long enough to reach from his fingertips to his chest. Maybe a longer one would be better, he considers, though he didn’t actually decide exactly how he would be tying it yet…

His cheeks burn as he unties a second scarf, one size bigger than the one splayed out. This one is much longer. It probably could stretch across his whole arm span, if not more. This will be perfect, no matter what he decides to do with it later. The width is not too bad, either. It isn’t awkwardly thin or thick, which suits Sam just fine.

He resolves to just pick up two of any random design, and he’s about to turn toward the register when his eyes catch on a specific scarf, lying at the far end of the table. His forehead crinkles. _Do I really care how they look_? he chides himself. But he steps closer anyway, and his breath catches at how seemingly perfect this looks to be.

The scarf is green, a dark green, almost black. The color reminds Sam of trees at night, the leaves still noticeably green but swathed in shadows. Woven throughout the cloth are thin fibers of gold, zigzagging almost randomly from one end of the scarf to the other, but the way in which they stand out seems to make sense. Sam can’t look away, and even though he knows he’s being stupid, he can’t help but trace the gold and green with his thumb and think of Dean.

There’s only two of them left, and when Sam unravels them both and sees that not only are they both the same length but the length Sam _wanted_ , he takes them into his hands and goes to pay.

“Did you find everything okay?” the smiley woman asks him at the counter. 

Sam nods, pushing the scarves toward her and digging his cash out of his jeans.

“Ohh, these are _gorgeous_ ,” she comments, holding up a scarf and looking at it up and down. “Good taste!”

“Thanks,” Sam replies, focusing on the beep of the scanner and willing this lady _not to ask about—_

“For a special someone?” she questions, lips upturned and white teeth flashing.

Sam swallows, holding out his wad of cash, trying to ignore the blush that has inevitably worked its way up his neck and across his cheeks. The woman laughs as she takes the money, counting it out and handing back a few bills.

She doesn’t say anything as she wraps up the scarves. He didn’t tell her to, but she puts them in a box with pretty black tissue paper (it works with the color of the cloth, Sam notes) and closes it with a tasteful black ribbon.

“Here you go,” she singsongs, handing Sam the box. “I’m sure whoever they are, they’ll love them.” She winks conspiratorially, and Sam nods, taking the box and turning on his heels, practically jogging his way out. The door chimes when he leaves, and he cringes again.

Back on the bus, Sam clutches the box on his lap, absentmindedly playing with the ribbon tied into a neat little bow around the top as he stares out the window. He plays back the shop owner’s words, and can’t help but laugh. And then he keeps laughing, shoulders shaking as he really takes in just what the hell he’s doing in the first place, going to the _mall_ , buying _scarves_. He feels curious eyes on him, probably wondering who this crazy person is, a laughing, lone teenager on a public bus. But he can’t help it.

Yeah, Dean better love these, because Sam sure as hell will.

__

Sam spends a few more days stewing. He doesn’t want to stew, but he can’t _not_ , because what else is he supposed to do while waiting for Dean’s return?

His stewing mostly consists of doubts, and he’s got a lot of them. He can’t help wondering if Dean will laugh at this whole thing, will think it’s silly or stupid. Or worse, pull that whole age thing again and try to convince Sam that he’s not ready. 

Then again, after they had sex the first time, Dean hasn’t stopped Sam from doing anything he wanted to. And beyond that, Sam doesn’t plan on giving Dean much of warning about this. It’s a surprise, after all.

That makes him feel a little better.

But then he wonders if he’ll make a fool out of himself. What if the scarves come loose? What if something goes wrong? What if Sam is wrong and Dean won’t be into this whole thing at all?

Sam knows he’s being stupid this time, because when has Dean ever laughed at him? When has he ever not agreed to do something Sam wanted to do? And Dean _did_ mention something like this before. It was in the heat of the moment, but still. 

Goddammit, it’s Dean’s birthday, and Sam wants to make this special. He has a plan. The scarves are only a part of it, only a part of how good he wants to make Dean feel. And when has Dean ever made him feel like he was stupid for wanting to try something new?

No, this will go fine. It has to. Dean will enjoy it and will beg Sam for more, just like Sam wants.

Sam stews for days.

He’s lying on his bed three days after buying the scarves when his phone rings. His pulse immediately jumps, because who else can it _be_ , and he fumbles for the phone on the nightstand before quickly answering.

“Hello?” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound a little too breathless. His heartbeat is jumping all over the place, even though Dean isn’t even _back_ yet, and he has literally nothing to be nervous about right now.

“Sammy,” Dean rumbles over the phone, sounding tired but relieved. “Glad you picked up. How’s it going?”

“I always pick up,” Sam points out, rolling over to lay on his stomach. “I’m fine. Just… bored.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “I get it,” he says, and Sam can hear him shuffling around. 

“Where are you?” Sam asks, playing with a stray thread on his pillowcase.

“Bathroom of a gas station. We’re only a day out from you. I’ll be back in time.” A pause, more shuffling. “That’s actually why I called.”

“Hm?” Sam hums, trying to sound nonchalant but really hoping Dean has good news.

“Dad said he’s heading out right after we get back. He got a call from Bobby, something about a werewolf, I think. I don’t know, but it’s three states away, Sammy. _Three states_.”

Sam inhales, smile breaking out on his face. “So that means—”

“We’ll be alone. For weeks, probably.” Sam can practically hear Dean’s grin over the phone, and that just makes him want to yell with happiness right into his pillow.

“And your birthday,” Sam whispers, unable to not bring it up. Because wasn’t that the point the entire time?

“Yeah,” Dean says, voice just a tiny bit lower. “I’ll have you all to myself on my birthday.” Sam hears another shuffling before, “I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” Sam agrees, unable to help it when his eyes glance towards the box with the black bow that sits on the dresser.

Sam hears a bang and distant shout, and then there’s more shuffling. “Shit, Sammy, I gotta go. Dad’s flipping out. I’ve been in here trying to get reception for like, twenty minutes.”

“Shit,” Sam laughs, but it’s a quiet thing. Saying goodbye to Dean never gets easier. “Better go, then.”

“Yep,” Dean agrees. Sam hears a little more shuffling and the creak of a door opening. “Be good, baby brother. One more day, and then you’re mine.”

Sam’s entire body shivers, and he doesn’t even get a word in before he ears the line click dead.

__

On the morning of Dean’s birthday, Sam wakes up at the crack of dawn. Their Dad left ages ago. The sun is only just peeking over the horizon. Dean is practically snoring beside him, since he barely did anything since he got back the day before except take a drowsy shower and pass out. The job must have been exhausting this time around. 

Sam is glad he’s back.

Sam also figures there’s no better time to do this. Tired Dean is harder to wake up, though he’s still a light sleeper, so Sam crawls carefully out of bed and to the dresser where the wrapped-up box sits buried in the bottom drawer. 

He’s not going to lie, he’s nervous. Nervous enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if his heart beating erratically in his chest is loud enough to wake Dean up. His fingers tremble as he takes the scarves out of the box and carries them to the bed. 

_This is ridiculous_ , thinks Sam. He shouldn’t be nervous. This was his plan for days, now. He needs to just do this, and then it’ll be happening, and he won’t even care anymore because it’s going to be going so well he’ll forget all about ever being scared. 

Resolved, Sam takes a deep breath and climbs onto the bed. He moves close enough to Dean that he can hear his steady breathing, his soft snores, and slowly, slowly, picks up one of Dean’s arms and raises it to the headboard.

He ties the scarf slowly over Dean’s wrist and through the slats of the headboard. It seems to take ages, but Sam isn’t taking any chances to wake up Dean. He tries to think simultaneously about tying a tight enough knot and staying silent. It’s difficult. 

After several minutes Dean’s wrist is finally tied securely to the headboard. The scarf is in a complex knot, probably one that John taught him once, for setting up a trap or something. Sam doesn’t remember exactly what it was for, but he figures that right now it doesn’t really matter all that much.

Sam gives a small smile at his success so far, and confidently leans over to raise Dean’s other arm. He feels so confident, in fact, that he begins to imagine just what he’ll do once Dean is completely tied up. He’ll definitely tease him, just like Dean loves to do. He always makes Sam so desperate, and Sam definitely wouldn’t mind turning the tables for once.

But then Sam’s world is turning upside down, and he gasps as he’s thrown onto his back, a sudden weigh pressing him down, trapping him. And then he notices something cold along his neck, and his entire body goes rigid as he places the familiar feel of a knife against his skin.

Dean’s eyes widen above him.

“ _Sam_?”

Dean has him pinned, and Sam would laugh if he wasn’t just a tiny bit scared at having a weapon up against his throat, and embarrassed at having been so caught so utterly red handed.

“Um,” Sam says, swallowing. “Happy Birthday?”

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean tosses the knife away fast, somewhere over the side of the bed, lessening his hold on Sam’s body. And then Dean glances at the headboard, where his arm is still tied up, seeming to notice for the first time that he only has one hand free. “Sam, what the hell.”

Sam closes his eyes, shame blooming within him, hot and insistent. “This was supposed to go so much better.”

“And what exactly is ‘this’?”

Sam opens his eyes, and then immediately wishes he didn’t, because Dean’s bright green gaze is boring into him, too close and too calculating, and it makes Sam’s cheeks grow hot. “Nothing,” he blurts. “This is nothing. Let me go. I’ll untie you. This was stupid.” Sam turns his head to the side. “So fucking stupid,” he mutters, struggling against the lump forming in his throat.

He wants to be far away from Dean now, locked up in the bathroom so he can glare at himself in the mirror and wonder just when he became so idiotic. This was such a bad idea. Why the hell did he ever think this was going to work? That he would successfully tie up Dean, the world’s lightest sleeper, and torture him with the best sex he’s ever had?

Jesus Christ, Sam really wants to slam his head into a wall right now.

Sam moves to get up, but he can’t move. He looks back at Dean, who’s looking at him with an expression that Sam suddenly can’t seem to place.

“Sam,” Dean says. “Tell me what you were trying to do.”

“It was stupid,” Sam says. “Sorry I scared you.”

Dean leans in closer, and Sam finds himself tracing the freckles on Dean’s cheeks with his eyes. “It’s my birthday, Sam,” he says, voice low. “You have to do what I say.”

“No I don’t,” Sam replies, but his voice is so soft and weak that he wonders if he even said it at all. And Dean isn’t letting him go, isn’t even replying, so Sam swallows and silently says goodbye to any shred of dignity he may have had. “I was trying to tie you up,” he says.

Dean nods at him to continue.

Sam sighs, his breath coming out unevenly. “I was trying to tie you up so you wouldn’t be able to move and I could tease you and give you the best fuck that you’ve ever had because it’s your birthday and you mentioned tying me up that one time and I thought that maybe I could do it to you because you always make me feel so good and I just wanted to make you feel that good for once. Okay? Are you happy now?”

For a moment, Dean just looks at him, his pupils dilating ever so slightly as he takes Sam in. And then, slowly, Dean’s weight rises off Sam’s body until he’s in a sitting position, up against the headboard, smiling a wide, toothy grin.

“Okay,” Dean says simply.

Sam sits up. “What?”

“Do it,” he tells Sam. “Go on with your plan.” 

Sam swallows. 

Dean holds out his other arm, the one not yet tied up, and waves it around. “Well? Aren’t you going to finish tying me up?”

“You’re making fun of me,” Sam accuses, crossing his arms. He feels so embarrassed that it’s still hard to look Dean in the eye, and he won’t be able to take it if agreeing to this is just Dean’s way of laughing at him.

“No, I’m not!” Dean says. “Sammy, I’m not making fun. Hey, look at me.”

Sam lifts his gaze to Dean. “I just wanted to make you feel good,” he says, ignoring how his cheeks are probably blazing red by now. “You’re always doing things for me and—”

“You always make me feel good,” Dean interrupts. “Always. Jesus, just by sitting there looking like that, you make me feel good.”

Sam rolls his eyes, looking down at the simple t-shirt and boxers that he wears. “That makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does,” Dean insists. “You’re sitting there, and I’m imagining all these things I want to do to you. And then I realize I can, if I wanted to. Because you’re mine. And knowing that I have you…” Dean shrugs. “Knowing that makes me feel good.”

Sam is pretty sure his whole face is red. “Shut up.”

“Only if you tie me up.”

Sam puts his head in his hands. “This wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

“Then let’s start over,” Dean suggests. “Tie me up. Make it the way you wanted it to be.”

Sam looks up at him, still trying to gauge is Dean is really being sincere. “You mean it?” he asks. “You’re not teasing me?”

Dean shakes his head. “I want my birthday present,” he says firmly, holding out his arm again. “Now give it to me.”

__

Sam ties up Dean’s other arm slowly. He lets his fingertips trace Dean’s wrist, the veins that rise slightly on the backs of his palms, the light spattering of freckles on the inside of his arm. He makes sure the scarf is tight, tighter than he allowed himself to tie it before. Now that Dean is awake, watching him silently but with wide eyes, he feels surer of himself than ever.

He goes back to Dean’s other arm and changes the knot so it’s tighter, too. He makes eye contact with Dean as he finishes, and leans in to press the faintest of kisses to his lips.

“All done,” he says.

Dean nods. “Now what?” he whispers.

Instead of answering, Sam leans back and takes off his shirt, tossing it over the bed. Dean follows each movement intently, eyes grazing every inch of bare skin that Sam has to offer.

He crawls back to Dean slowly, heart racing as he watches Dean lick his lips at Sam’s approach. 

“I’m going to do it different today,” he tells Dean shyly. 

“Different?” Dean repeats, voice rough. His eyes refuse to leave Sam’s body, and even though Sam hasn’t even touched him yet, his hands struggle against the scarves.

Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, moving to straddle Dean, legs on either side of Dean’s thighs. 

Dean takes in a rattled breath. “Fuck,” he exhales.

Sam grins, leaning in to Dean’s neck, pressing his nose to the skin. “This is fun,” he admits. “That I can do anything I want.” He presses a chaste kiss to the area right below Dean’s ear.

“Within reason,” Dean replies, but there’s no heat behind his words, and it makes Sam smile wider.

Sam lets his hands slide down Dean’s torso, enjoying the way it makes Dean shiver underneath his palms. He stops at Dean’s boxers, which are already bulging from his apparent hard-on. 

“I want to taste you,” Sam says softly into Dean’s neck, and Dean groans as Sam’s hand faintly traces a pattern over Dean’s covered cock. “I missed that while you were away. It’s been too long.”

“Sammy,” Dean sighs. “Fuck, I wish I could touch you.”

Sam leans back and grins. “You have to wait,” he says, and pulls Dean out of his boxers, taking him tightly in his hand.

Dean gasps as Sam begins stroking him, up and down his shaft slow enough for Dean to grit his teeth. Sam looks down to watch, swallowing thickly as Dean’s cock twitches and leaks pearls of pre-come into his hand.

“Shit,” Sam mutters.

“Speed up,” Dean growls. 

Sam ignores him, instead shifting to sit further down on Dean’s legs, enough so that he can lean down and press his tongue to the head of Dean’s cock.

Sam hears is when Dean pulls against his bindings suddenly enough for the whole headboard to rattle. 

“Fuck,” Dean gasps, hips jumping when Sam takes Dean into his mouth and swallows him down several inches. “Fuck, Sam. Just like that.”

He rises so he can dip his tongue in Dean’s slit. “Like that?” he asks, moving back to kiss his way down the shaft. 

“So fucking good,” he pants. “Fuck, I wanna be inside you so bad.”

“Not yet,” Sam taunts, sitting up. He bites his lip as he takes in the glistening hardness of Dean’s cock, the head beautifully pink and practically begging Sam to take it back into his mouth. But he ignores the feeling and instead looks back at Dean’s face.

Dean growls as his eyes meet Sam’s. “You’re doing it on purpose,” he growls, hands fighting against the scarves uselessly. 

Sam releases his lip from his teeth and shrugs. He moves back up to straddle Dean and kisses him, sliding his tongue across Dean’s bottom lip and into his mouth. He tastes faintly like beer and mint, and it makes Sam moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Dean whispers when they part, his eyes lidded and staring at Sam’s mouth. “You’re so fucking sexy. I wish I could just pound you into the mattress, right now.”

Sam trembles at the words, leaning in to kiss Dean again. This time, Dean takes control, nipping at Sam’s lips, knees rising up so Sam slides further into his lap. His tongue traces headily against Sam’s, causing Sam to grind down onto Dean to alleviate the pressure of his erection, still trapped in his boxers.

“Take them off,” Dean whispers against his lips, clearly feeling Sam against him. 

Sam crawls off Dean’s lap, but he doesn’t take his boxers off just yet, causing Dean to grunt in frustration when Sam moves away.

“Where are you going?” he groans, and Sam laughs as he leans off the bed to grab the lube.

“Duh,” he tells Dean when he returns, showing him the bottle, but Dean only glowers further when Sam sits on the mattress in the space between Dean’s knees, instead of back on his lap.

Sam doesn’t offer an explanation, instead allowing his actions to speak for themselves. 

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down, raising his legs so Dean can get a clear view of his ass as he pulls them off, his erection slapping up to lay against his stomach. Dean swallows as Sam then spreads his legs, resting his feet on either side of Dean’s knees. 

“Since you can’t get me ready,” Sam finally explains, uncapping the lube and applying it directly to his hole. He bites his lip as he feels the familiar cold, tossing the bottle aside and lowering his hand to heat up the slickness against his skin.

Dean watches him hungrily. Sam takes in each one of his reactions, how Dean’s eyes flare when he traces a finger across his rim, how Dean’s lips part when he lets a fingertip enter himself just enough that he can feel his own warmth.

Sam moans as he presses his finger in further, letting his head fall back as he feels the intrusion and moving so he can get used to it as fast as possible. He wants Dean inside him already, wants to feel full, to feel the hot thickness of Dean stretch him and fuck him like he always does.

“Wish it was your fingers,” Sam moans, closing his eyes as he slides a second digit in to join the first. He savors the burn that turns into pleasure, pumping in and out of himself. “Wish it was you. You feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Dean rasps, leaning forward subconsciously, swallowing heavily as he takes in Sam’s ministrations. “You look so beautiful,” he says. “So fucking beautiful.”

Sam whimpers, feeling Dean’s gaze like a brand. “Want you inside me,” he says.

“Untie me,” Dean suddenly says, and Sam opens his eyes to look at Dean. “Fuck, I want to touch you so bad. I need it.”

Sam shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says, panting as he adds a third finger.

Dean growls, the headboard rattling again as he struggles. 

Sam likes this, the control he has over Dean, how crazy he’s making him. Sam bites his lip purposely as he meets Dean’s gaze, which really makes Dean lose it.

“Sammy,” he groans, and Sam can see his cock leaking obscenely. “Sammy, now. I need to fuck you _now_.”

And Sam, well, as much as he wants to stay in control, it’s really fucking hard when Dean sounds like that. So he takes his fingers out of himself and hurries back into Dean’s lap, crushing his lips to Dean’s, tasting him greedily.

“Dean,” he moans. “Gonna let you fuck me,” he says. “I need it, too.”

“You gonna ride me?” Dean asks, voice gravelly as he moves to nip at Sam’s neck. Sam lets him, leaning into him, clutching at his shoulders as Dean sucks at him. “Ride my cock until you come?”

“Yeah,” Sam pants, cock twitching at the words. “But different,” he says. “A little different.”

“How,” Dean demands, biting into Sam’s neck hard enough that Sam gives a yelp.

And so Sam pulls away from him, hard as it may be, and turns around so his back is facing Dean.

“Fuck,” Dean says breathlessly. “Like that?” he asks. “Gonna ride me like that?”

Sam nods, smiling though Dean can’t see his face, and presses his back into Dean’s chest, allowing his ass to graze Dean’s cock. Sam hears the headboard creak, and he knows that Dean must be pulling against the bindings harder than ever.

“I love you,” Dean whispers into Sam’s ear, the position placing his mouth right by Sam’s neck. “So fucking much. More than anything.”

Sam smiles as he takes Dean’s cock into his hand, making sure to apply lube across his shaft, pumping it a few times as he guides the head to his entrance.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” he replies. And then he sinks down onto Dean’s cock.

Sam cries out at the same time that Dean curses, the whole bed moving as Dean pulls against his restrains. 

“Oh god,” Sam moans, having to lean his hands on the mattress as he continues to take in Dean’s length. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Dean thrusts up as Sam continues to move down, and Sam shouts as the last of Dean’s cock enters him without warning. 

“Shit,” Dean gasps. “Sorry, Sam. I’m sorry. You okay?”

Sam nods. “I’m fine,” he says, but he’s more than fine. He feels so full it’s like he’ll split apart, but in the best way. He feels Dean deep inside of him, and suddenly he wants more than anything for Dean’s arms to be around him, his calloused hands pressed into his skin. “Feels good, Dean,” Sam tells him, trying to ignore his need for Dean around him, holding him, for as long as possible.

“Good, Sammy,” Dean says from behind him. “You’re so good, you know that? Always so good.”

Sam begins to move, sliding up slightly off Dean’s cock then back down, crying out at the hotness of Dean’s hardness inside him. He can feel Dean’s restraint, the way his body is tense underneath him, struggling to keep from moving.

“You can fuck me, Dean,” Sam pants, building a rhythm that has his whole body almost weak from the pleasure. “God, just move, Dean. I wanna feel you even more.”

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. The next time Sam moves down, Dean meets him with a rough thrust, and Sam cries out as he feels Dean hit something deep inside him that makes heat flood his entire body. 

“Fuck, right there,” Sam whimpers, as Dean thrusts into him again and again, hitting the same spot with startling accuracy. “Oh god,” he gasps. “Oh god!”

“Sammy,” Dean growls, “can’t do this. I need to— _fuck_. I need to hold you.”

Sam moans as Dean moves up into him harder than before. “I w-want it too,” Sam admits, and he needs it, needs the strength of Dean’s arms holding him up as he fucks into him, needs it more than anything right now.

So as Dean continues to move, Sam blindly reaches for one of the scarves that holds Dean down. He can barely focus, Dean unrelenting as he fucks him, and Sam barely as the first scarf untied when Dean breaks free of it, immediately wrapping his arm around Sam’s chest.

Now he has a better grip. Sam practically screams as the pace changes, Dean moving faster now that Sam is being held securely against him.

“D-dean,” Sam whines, his head falling back against the headboard, entire body feeling like jelly. “Other hand,” he gasps. “Gotta— _oh my god, fuck_!” 

Sam can’t get a sentence out. Dean is biting at his neck, his fingertips pressing into Sam’s stomach in the way that makes Dean feel even bigger inside of him, and Sam suddenly feels so close to coming that he finds himself begging Dean to slow down.

“Not yet,” he moans, no strength behind his words. “Other hand,” he says. “Untie you.”

Somehow, Dean slows his movements, enough so that Sam can move and untie the second scarf. It’s barely falling away when Dean’s now free arm is moving, going to Sam’s cock and stroking his length.

“I’m gonna come if you do that,” Sam breaths, clutching at Dean’s bicep, pleasure building dizzyingly fast in his gut as Dean’s thumb traces the head of his cock. “Shit, Dean. I can’t—”

“You can come, Sammy,” Dean says in his ear, breath hot on his skin and making Sam shiver. “Fuck, you’re so tight. I wanna feel you get tighter as you come.”

Sam moans, but shakes his head. “Want you to come first,” he says.

Dean hums against Sam’s neck as he begins to thrust faster. “I’ll make you come first,” he promises, his hand moving faster over Sam’s cock. “That’s what you get for untying me.”

Sam barely has it in him to get annoyed, more than willing to give in and let himself come. 

But this was his plan. This was the result of days of planning, and somehow Dean yet again made it so Sam is the one getting all the special treatment. This is Dean’s birthday! Damn it if Dean is going to ruin the last thing Sam has to make today different than every other day. 

So Sam, using every bit of strength left in him, pries Dean’s arms from around him and climbs off Dean’s cock.

“Sam—?”

Sam turns around so he’s facing Dean, then moves back onto his lap, taking Dean’s cock and guiding it back inside of him before Dean even really knows what’s happening.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean curses, grabbing Sam’s hips as Sam takes each inch without hesitation. “Sammy, what are you—”

“You’re coming first,” Sam interrupts, leaning in to whisper into Dean’s ear. He begins to rock himself over Dean’s cock, hard and fast. The bed shakes with each of his movements. “It’s your birthday, and you’re coming first. Understand?”

“But you—”

“I want you to come inside,” Sam continues, willing his voice to come out the way Dean’s always does when they fuck, low and sexy, all seduction. “I wanna feel your come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Dean growls, and then he’s thrusting inside Sam, his grip tight over Sam’s hips.

“I like how it feels,” Sam says, and his voice breaks as Dean grabs him tighter and pounds into him erratically. “When your come is hot inside of me. I wanna feel it, Dean. Come inside me. Just fucking come, okay?”

And then Dean lets out a string of curses, and Sam whimpers as he feels Dean finally empty himself inside him, that hot feeling of being filled throwing him off the edge. Sam comes seconds later, his arms wrapped tight around Dean, face buried in his neck. Dean continues to move as they ride out their high, making Sam an overly sensitive, trembling mess by the time his orgasm finally winds down.

Sam breaths heavily against Dean as they calm, Dean holding him tight, hands still pressing into his hips. Sam eventually starts kisses Dean’s neck over and over, wet kisses, grateful kisses, and Dean laughs at the attack, his hold only tightening around him.

“I love you,” Sam murmurs into Dean’s skin. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything, ever. I hope you know that.”

“I know that,” he replies, pushing against Sam until he’s on his back, Dean hovering over him. He kisses Sam on the nose. “You’re everything to me. I hope _you_ know that.”

Sam grins. “I know that,” he says. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

Dean leans in and kisses him, lazily and deeply. Sam can’t help but smile into it, twining his arms around Dean’s neck, feeling the warmth of Dean’s body against his for as long as he is able. And as the morning continues, Dean whispering his love into Sam’s ear over and over, holding Sam close to his chest, Sam can’t help but think that a happiness like this is all he could ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWWWW so CUTE. I love my little babies :D  
> Make sure to leave kudos and a comment! I love to hear from you guys <3  
> Until next time,  
> DancesWithFiends xoxo


	12. Birthday Extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little mini-chapter continuation of Dean's birthday. Hella fluff, hella smut. I had so much fun writing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was missing my boys. Editing past chapters just isn't enough to get my fill! I figured a little extra was just what I needed, and I was right. I had so much fun writing this scene. I've been imagining something like this for so long (I'm a sucker for fluff, you guys) and am SO glad I got to put this into this story. Yes, this is technically a filler, but it's a fun filler! So please enjoy. Especially since you guys are being so awesome while waiting so long for the actual return of this story :)  
> Without further ado, Dean't birthday, part two <3

“Come on, get up.”

Dean smiles down at Sam, waving his outstretched arm.

“Well?” Dean prompts. “What are you waiting for?”

“The punchline,” Sam says succinctly.

Dean rolls his eyes. “No punch line, smartass. I’m serious.”

“Right,” Sam scoffs, crossing his arms, “you woke up this morning with the sudden urge to _slow dance_. Makes complete sense.”

“Sammy, get over here and shut your mouth.” Dean reaches over and grabs Sam by the front of his T-shirt, hauling him up and off the couch until they stand chest to chest. “See? Not so hard.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but Dean can see his lips slowly curving upwards, and that makes him grin.

“There’s not even any music,” Sam mumbles, seemingly giving up and burying his face in Dean’s neck.

Dean wraps his arms around the small of Sam’s back in response, letting his eyes close as he takes in the scent of Sam’s freshly washed hair. “We can imagine there is.”

“Or you can sing,” Sam replies softly, his lips vibrating against Dean’s skin.

“Sing?” Dean repeats.

Sam nods against him. “Or whatever.”

Dean chuckles quietly. “You like when I sing, Sam?”

“No. Shut up.”

“I’ll only sing if you admit that you like it,” Dean insists, unwinding one of his arms to pull Sam’s face away by his chin. “Say it,” he tells Sam, forcing his eyes up. And then Sam’s cheeks begin to grow pink, the pupils of his hazel eyes dilating, and Dean can’t help but lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Won’t say it,” Sam mumbles against Dean’s lips. “Isn’t true.”

“Liar.” Dean takes Sam’s hand and places it around his neck. “I guess we’re just dancing to silence, then.”

Sam grumbles something unintelligible, but grips Dean’s neck all the same.

“What was that?” Dean grins, tightening his hold on Sam’s waist.

“I said,” Sam says smartly, putting his other arm around Dean’s neck, looking resolutely down at their feet, “that I like it.”

“Hm? I still can’t hear you.”

Sam presses his forehead into Dean’s chest. “Shut up or I’m leaving.”

“You can’t, though” Dean replies. “It’s my birthday.”

“Your birthday ended seven minutes ago,” Sam points out, glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand.

“Birthdays don’t end until you go to sleep. Everybody knows that.”

Sam laughs despite himself, and Dean’s body grows warm at the sound. He holds Sam tighter.

“So, dance with me,” he whispers in Sam’s ear, letting his lips trace the curve of his skin. “One last birthday present.”

“You didn’t like all the others?” Sam asks. Dean can feel the way Sam’s body shivers in his arms.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Dean says, and leans down to kiss Sam again, this time letting his tongue trace Sam’s bottom lip ever so slightly. When Sam parts his mouth to let him in, he pulls away, smirking when Sam whines.

“Dean…”

“Later,” Dean promises, kissing Sam’s temple. “We went all day.”

“Don’t care,” Sam pouts. “It’s not enough.”

Dean inhales, feeling the familiar heat of arousal gather in his gut despite all they did today. And Sam, damn him, knows exactly what he’s doing. Because as he looks as Dean, he takes his pink, full bottom lip and takes it between his teeth, all the while looking up at Dean through lidded eyes.

“You don’t play fairly,” Dean groans. “Come on, one dance.”

And before Sam can get the better of him, Dean takes him by the hips and spins them around, holding him close as they move through the motel room in broad sweeps.

Sam gives a yelp, clutching at Dean desperately as he’s almost knocked off balance.

“Dean!” he gasps. “What the—hey! Would you—”

But Dean won’t have any of it, simply kissing Sam hard on the mouth as they pass the bed and swing around the couch. “Relax,” Dean says into Sam’s ear, swaying to some invisible beat. “Just enjoy it.”

Sam looks up hazily from the kiss, slightly off kilter from the heat of it, and Dean grins.

“I thought you were gonna sing,” Sam whispers, blinking slowly, voice raw. 

Dean smiles, changing their direction and pulling Sam’s hips closer to his body. And then he begins to hum, the softest thing, coming out of him in syncopated notes and an easy confidence. The song comes easy, a melody that always seems to find its way into his head at the barest thought of Sam. It has a slow cadence, a lazy melody. It reminds Dean of the mornings that he wakes up before Sam does, when he can watch Sam’s eyelids move with his dreams, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths. 

That’s what this song is – the untouchable moments when no one, nothing, can ever reach them.

Dean doesn’t know when he closes his eyes, but he does, focusing on Sam’s body against his as he stops in the middle of the room and they simply sway, feet moving in little steps on the floor. He feels Sam sigh against him, and it sounds like everything Dean feels – content, calm, _happy_.

He moves his hands from Sam’s waist to wrap his arms around him again, holding him close enough to feel his chest move with each breath. 

As Dean continues to sing, as the melody begins to lilt and shift into a minor key, he feels the softest touch of Sam’s fingertips on his neck, tracing his nape. It feels unconscious; it’s languid and without pattern, and Dean knows Sam must be losing himself in this, just as he is. Goosebumps rise on his skin beneath Sam’s fingertips, and he shivers as he approaches the end of his song.

They sway there, chest to chest, their arms wrapped around each other, lost in their dance. Dean can’t help but feel grateful, in this moment, for coming up with this. He didn’t think he’d ever be doing something like this in a million years, but the moment he had imagined Sam close to him, breath on his neck, just like in that old movie he caught on TV while on the job last week… he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head.

He feels silly. But he’s glad. And slightly amused. It’s because of Sam that he seems to like all the shit he had always seemed to hate before. The little things. The things he thought he’d never have, because of the life he was thrown into.

But Sam was thrown right along with him. He’s the only one who truly understands what it means to be a Winchester, to know who Dean really is, inside and out, and never judge. Dean knows without a doubt that he wouldn’t last a second without him. He doesn’t want to imagine it.

Dean reaches the end of his song, hums one long tone stretching into the silence before fading out. And when he’s finished, neither one of them pull away. They continue to sway, Sam’s breaths puffing out against Dean’s skin in warm little clouds, tickling and soothing Dean all at once. 

Dean winds his fingers into the fabric of Sam’s shirt, burying his nose in Sam’s hair and inhaling the scent.

“I love you,” he whispers, so softly it’s barely a movement of his lips. 

But Sam seems to hear it anyway. Because he pulls away ever so slightly until Dean opens his eyes and sees Sam staring back at him, eyes wide and clear.

“What was that?” Sam asks, voice soft, as if trying not to disturb the air around them.

Dean shrugs, or as much as he can with Sam’s arms still around him, and leans in close. “Made it up,” he says. “Reminds me of you.”

“ _That_ reminds you of _me_?” Sam asks, incredulous.

Dean nods.

“But… that was so… so _beautiful_.”

Dean smiles, pressing his forehead against Sam’s. “Exactly.”

He can feel Sam’s face heat up against his own, and he chuckles.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“Did you have good birthday?”

Dean exhales. “The best birthday.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sam doesn’t reply, simply leaning further into Dean’s touch. 

Dean doesn’t waste the opportunity. He kisses Sam, lips pressing gently against his, the softness of his skin heavy and consuming. Sam sighs into it, parting his mouth, a soft moan escaping when Dean traces his tongue along the edge of Sam’s bottom lip.

Dean lets his hands wander Sam’s body, fingertips moving from Sam’s hips to his waist, up the side of his torso to his shoulders, until they cradle Sam’s face as Dean deepens the kiss, thumbs tracing the curve of his cheeks. He feels Sam shiver against him, despite the warmth between their bodies. Dean can feel every movement of Sam against him, the way his stomach lines up with his, Sam’s fingertips clutching at the skin along Dean’s neck. 

Sam moans softly as they part for air, but Dean doesn’t stop, moving his hands back down Sam’s body, making sure to take his time in lingering across every exposed area of flesh. He lifts the edge of Sam’s t-shirt to slip his fingers underneath, grabbing at the hot skin there, already raised with goosebumps. He forgets to control the roughness of his grip, pressing his fingers into Sam’s skin as if it will help bring him closer. Sam gasps as Dean’s hands move up, guiding his arms up as his shirt is finally slipped off.

Dean lets his eyes roam Sam’s exposed torso, watching as his chest begins to rise and fall more rapidly under the heat of his gaze.

“Dean,” Sam whispers, leaning back in. “Kiss me.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate. How could he? He lets his mouth collide back into Sam’s, his head beginning to swim, either from the lack of air or the effect of Sam, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. All he can think about is the feel of Sam’s back under his hands as he moves them downwards, tracing his spine, feeling the ridges beneath warm skin, how his body shudders as he reaches his lower back and slides his palms over the curve of his ass, right over his jeans.

“Off,” Dean rasps, and Sam moves to do exactly that, but Dean doesn’t let him. Instead he slips his hands beneath the jeans, beneath his briefs, grabbing at Sam’s ass with greedy fingers.

Sam gasps, jumping as Dean fights his way to Sam’s skin. He moans as Dean squeezes, and Dean grips tighter as he imagines the red marks he must be making with his fingertips.

“D-Dean, let me get it o-off,” Sam pants, wriggling in Dean’s hold.

Dean shakes his head, working until Sam’s jeans and boxers lie just underneath the curve of his ass, giving Dean easy access to hold him.

“This is hotter anyway,” Dean admits, giving Sam’s bare ass a squeeze to make his point, and Sam huffs a laugh.

“You’re insane,” Sam says, yelping when Dean spreads him apart and slips a finger between his cheeks. “D-Dean, what are you—”

“I’ll make you come right here,” Dean whispers, pressing his fingertip to Sam’s hole, still slick from earlier and already twitching against his touch.

Sam moans, letting his head fall against Dean’s shoulder. “Dean…”

“Sammy.” 

“Dean, I— fuck, just go in already.”

Dean chuckles, holding Sam close with his free arm around his back, keeping him steady. He presses into Sam slightly, clenching his jaw at the warmth that envelopes his finger, fighting against his own arousal. Sam moans, arms tightening around Dean’s neck.

“Good?” Dean asks, pausing to let Sam adjust.

Sam nods into his neck. “Keep going,” he breathes.

Dean moves his finger out then back in again, smiling when he feels Sam’s teeth graze against his skin. When he moves out again, he reenters with a second finger, enjoying the way Sam trembles against him at the change.

“Fuck,” Sam moans, panting against Dean, his back both arching into Dean’s touch and struggling to move away. “Feels better than last time.”

“It’s because I touched you all day,” Dean replies, stretching his fingers inside of Sam, gripping him tight around his back as he feels Sam’s legs lock. “You’re sensitive.”

Sam can only whimper, clutching at Dean as Dean continues to move inside of him. Dean can feel Sam’s erection pressing against him, hard on his leg. He moves unconsciously against Dean, seeking more friction even as he presses back onto Dean’s fingers.

“I w-want—” Sam begins, but he cuts himself off with a choked moan as Dean, with a grin, finds the place inside of him that always unravels him.

“What do you want?” Dean asks, moving his fingers again and again into the place he knows must be driving Sam dangerously close to the edge. Sam’s arms are tight around him, a death grip, and Dean is practically holding him up with his arm.

“Dean,” Sam whines. “I c-can’t—”

“Tell me,” Dean says, withdrawing slowly. Sam whimpers desperately as Dean’s fingers leave him. “Come on, Sammy. Tell your big brother what you want.”

Sam shudders, hips now moving with a purpose against Dean’s leg, moaning softly as he seeks to relieve the pressure that must be building inside him. “I’m… I… I need—”

Dean presses a kiss to Sam’s neck. “Sammy…” he urges. 

“Dean,” Sam pants. “P-please, the bed. I— I’m gonna fall.”

“You won’t,” Dean promises, holding him tighter. “I’ve got you.”

Sam moans, trembling once again as he moves against Dean. “M-make me come,” he whispers. “Just… just once, with your fingers. Then… then with you inside me. Please, Dean. I need… I need you.”

Dean growls at his words, reentering his fingers without warning and pressing in hard. Sam cries out, biting down too late onto Dean’s neck to try and stifle his voice. Dean curses at the pain, teeth on skin, but ignores it, focusing on holding his little brother, guiding him to the edge with each thrust of his fingers.

“You close, baby?”

“Y-yeah,” Sam gasps, barely a response. His entire body shakes against Dean, clearly delirious in his chase to completion.

“Good. Good, Sammy. Come for me, okay? Just from your ass. Show me how good it feels.”

“Fuck,” Sam cries, and Dean can imagine the way his eyes are squeezed shut, lip bitten hard between his teeth, though his face stays firmly in Dean’s neck. “Dean, I’m… Dean, I’m gonna come!”

“That’s it,” Dean encourages. “Come, Sam. Come for me.”

Sam breathes in sharply before crying out Dean’s name, shuddering in his hold as he comes, so hard Dean needs to clutch him to his chest tighter. He doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers, guiding Sam through his high until he finally collapses, twitching and panting into his chest. 

Sam moans weakly as Dean removes his fingers.

“You okay?”

Sam nods. “’Course I am.”

“Just making sure, little brother. You’ve passed out on me before.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam snaps, but there’s no heat in his voice, just a soft sort of contentedness.

Dean chuckles. “Whatever, bitch. Just don’t fall asleep standing up.”

Sam unwinds himself from Dean and looks up at him. “I’m not sleeping, you idiot. I still want you to fuck me.”

Dean looks down as his jeans, dirty from Sam’s orgasm and uncomfortablytight around his own hard cock. He Looks back up at Sam. “Yeah?”

Sam whacks him on the chest. “Yes. Just… on the bed.”

Dean throws his head back and laughs. “Whatever you say.”

Sam blushes and looks away, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Dean grabs him suddenly around the waist and pulls him close. “But that’s what you love about me.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean scoffs, nipping at Sam’s ear. “Go spread out for me, baby. I’m taking you from behind tonight.”

Sam shivers even as he giggles at Dean’s kisses. “Pervert.”

“And proud of it,” Dean grins, kissing Sam hard on the mouth. 

When they part, Sam is smiling wide up at him. “You really had fun today?”

Dean leans in close. “It was the best day of my life.”

“Yeah?”

Dean nods.

Sam closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Lets it out. When he opens them and looks back up at Dean, he offers him a small but meaningful smile. “I’m happy, then.”

Dean can only look and look at his little brother’s face and feel exactly the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave your thoughts on this chapter and a kudos! I love hearing from you guys. Your support keeps me going!  
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter just as much as I loved writing it.  
> By the way, Dean's song was inspired by this song, moreso the tune than the lyrics :)  
> *Honey I'm Sorry (acoustic) by Joel Leggett*


	13. Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talked about it, once, the perfect day. And with the months having passed with less time together, Dean wants them to have it. A perfect day. A day to find their happiness once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the Good Days. Not much to say, except I'm happy with where the story is right now, and I was really glad to get back into writing. This chapter was fun, and I have a lot planned (the end is coming, guys. Maybe not *too* soon, but it's coming).  
> I hope you guys enjoy this one. I wanted the boys to be happy right now, without a care in the world.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. (I realized it's been over a year since I began posting this story?? That's nuts??? Wow)

Dean can’t help but chuckle as he watches Sam get dressed across the room. He’s bouncing around from bed to dresser, tossing around clothes, a wide smile on his face and hazel eyes nearly squinted shut because of it. His mood is infectious. Dean wonders why, if this was the reaction he was going to get, he didn’t suggest this so much sooner.

“Just pick a shirt, kiddo.”

Sam glances at Dean as if nearly forgetting he was there. “But it needs to be the right one.”

Dean rolls his eyes, biting back a laugh. “It’s still a normal day, Sammy. Don’t overthink it.”

“It’s not a normal day,” Sam mutters, mostly to himself. He holds up two T-shirts in front of him, looking between them both with wrinkled eyebrows. “Do you think it’ll be cold in the theater?”

“Maybe,” Dean says slowly. “But those are both—”

“Flannel,” Sam interjects, throwing both shirts onto the bed and bouncing back to the dresser, rummaging in one of the drawers until he pulls out a long-sleeved flannel button down. “Yes. Perfect.”

“Sam.”

“Should I wear them both or by themselves…” Sam mumbles, moving back to the bed and staring at the shirts again. 

“Sammy?”

“Does black even go with this?” Sam wonders aloud, squinting at the flannel.

Dean shakes his head and walks over to Sam, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around. “Sam!”

“What!”

“Sam, you’re my brother. I’ve seen you in literally everything you own. Just put something on.”

“But this is—”

“It’s not different!” Dean cuts him off. “It’s not different,” he says again, softer. “I love you in everything. Anything. It really doesn’t matter.”

Sam flits his gaze to the bed before looking back up at Dean, biting his lip. “I want this to be special, though.”

Dean chuckles, pressing his forehead to Sam’s. “It’s special already.”

“It’s our first date,” Sam says quietly, fidgeting in Dean’s hold. The words warm Dean from the inside out. “I wanted to look nice.”

“You’re nuts,” Dean says, but there’s no heat behind it. “How many times have I told you that you look fucking hot no matter what you wear? Or don’t wear, for that matter.”

Sam tilts his head away, trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“Can we go now?” Dean laughs, kissing Sam’s cheek. “Lots to do, you know.”

Sam looks back at him, already bouncing lightly on his toes at the reminder of what today holds, the wide smile back on his face. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yes. Let’s go. I’m wearing this.” Sam grabs a shirt blindly off the bed. “This one.”

Dean grins as Sam throws off the shirt he wears and changes into the black one he chose. It does look exceptionally well on him. Tighter than most of the other ones he owns. Dean rakes his gaze up and down Sam’s form, loving the way the fabric hugs Sam’s narrow waist and slight shoulders.

“Dean?”

Dean snaps his gaze up to Sam’s. “Hm?”

“Are we going?”

“Yes. We’re going.” Dean rakes a hand through his hair. “Good choice on the shirt,” he mutters as he grabs his wallet.

“What?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.” He holds out a hand to Sam and smiles. “I’m taking you out, Sam Winchester.”

Sam’s face blooms red.

“Ready?”

Sam gives Dean a shy smile, taking Dean’s hand. “Ready,” he says. “Let’s go out.”

__

_Two Days Ago_

Dean had his fingers threaded in Sam’s hair, lying with his eyes closed and lips upturned in a smile as he listened to Sam humming softly in his ear. 

His mind was a whirlwind that night. Thoughts mostly of Sam. Sam in his arms, Sam underneath him, Sam laughing, without a care in the world.

He didn’t know why, exactly, most of his thoughts kept returning to the quiet streets of Oregon and all that he and Sam had left there. Maybe because it had been just about a year since then, and that seemed like an absurdly long time. Maybe because he and Sam hadn’t had something like that since then, and that fact disappointed Dean. But maybe it was simply because Dean had never stopped missing those days he got to have with Sam, alone, exploring each other, completely, for the first time. Missing how happy Sam seemed to be when he didn’t have to worry about a thing.

Sam was fifteen now. So much had changed and yet nothing had at all. The months still passed as they always had, just now they seemed to pass a little bit brighter than they used to. False leads and early mornings, bloody monsters and oily weapons, none of it seemed to matter quite as much as it did before Dean had Sam. Sure, they were still hunters. Their Dad was still as cold, closed off, and single-minded as ever. He would never escape either of those facts. But having Sam now, in a way he hadn’t just over a year ago, took these hard truths and smoothed their sharp edges.

He tried, as he did many nights over the past few weeks, not to think about how his days with Sam seemed less and less lately, Sam’s smiles few and far between. John was beginning to demand more of him. Longer hunts. Bigger monsters. Dean dreaded the day he would be needed full time, but dreaded even more the day when Sam would no longer be viewed as a kid by their father. To Dean, Sam would always be his little brother. 

He just wanted there to be more time.

“Sam,” Dean said sleepily, nothing more than a whisper. It was the dead of night, both of them squeezed into the twin bed at the current motel stop, John snoring heavily from the other bed a few feet away.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, fingertip tracing just above the neckline of Dean’s t-shirt, back and forth across his skin.

“Remember Saturn Avenue?”

Sam’s breath caught lightly in his throat, just enough for Dean to notice. “Yes,” Sam breathed. “I remember.”

“We were together for the first time,” Dean whispered. “It was the best day of my life.”

Sam shivered against Dean. “You were so stubborn.”

Dean laughed quietly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Good thing you were worse.”

Sam pinched him lightly on his collarbone, making Dean clamp his mouth shut to stifle his laughter.

A moment passed as Dean calmed. “Why do you ask?” Sam eventually said. 

Dean shifted until he lied on his side, facing Sam in the darkness. “Remember that one night,” he whispered, “when I asked you about your perfect day? If we didn’t have to worry about hunting, or Dad, what you would do? And we planned it all out, and you asked me if it would be a date?”

Sam swallowed heavily, nodding against his pillow.

“Our next stop,” Dean said. “Let’s do it. Let’s go on that date.”

Even in the dark, Dean could see Sam’s eyes widen. “You— are you asking me out?”

Dean couldn’t help but grin. “Well, I don’t know if that’s exactly what I’m doing…”

“Dean,” Sam whined, embarrassment clear in his tone.

“Yes, Sammy,” Dean chuckled, raising a hand to trace across Sam’s cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m asking you out. Officially. Let’s go on an actual date. Have some normal fun for once in our miserable, fucked up life.”

Sam sighed, nuzzling his cheek into Dean’s palm. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled, pressing his lips to Sam’s in apology. “I just meant to say… we could be normal. Like…”

“If we weren’t brothers,” Sam finished for him, voice small.

Dean winced. “That’s not what I mean, either.”

“But it is.”

“Not like that, though,” Dean insisted, because it wasn’t, not really.

Sam didn’t answer for a few moments. “I know what you mean,” he finally said, and Dean let out a breath.

“I’m glad you’re my brother,” Dean reminded him, moving closer to Sam so he could run his lips over his nose. “I’ve told you before. I wouldn’t ever want to change that.”

Sam nodded, leaning in and kissing Dean slowly, lazily. “I know,” he said. “I know that. Me too, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean shook his head, not needing the apology.

“The next stop,” Dean said again, hooking his arm around Sam’s waist. “Dad’ll be gone for a week. It’s a town we’ve never been to. Nobody will know us.”

Sam nodded into his chest. “I can’t wait,” he whispered.

Dean pressed his face into Sam’s hair, humming in agreement, and let sleep drag him under.

__

They walk down the street, now, fingertips brushing every so often, and each time, a thrill races through Dean. 

Holding hands. Out in the open, in _public_. It’s something neither of them have ever dared to risk.

The motel they stay at this time around is smack in the middle of a small town, somewhere in the armpit of Indiana, with a population of roughly five thousand people and one grocery store to feed them all. Dean loves it. He loves all small towns, really, but this one seems to shine with something extra he can’t seem to place. 

He glances over at Sam to find him nervously looking every which way, flitting his gaze across passersby and fidgeting unsurely.

“Hey,” Dean says, nudging Sam with his shoulder. “You were excited.”

Sam looks at him. “I still am.”

“Then why do you look so scared?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not scared. I’m just…”

“Just…”

“Nervous,” he blurts. “I don’t know how to act.”

Dean smiles softly at the blush on Sam’s cheeks, and after looking around and deeming it safe, takes him by the hand. Sam gasps at the contact, looking up at Dean with wide, questioning eyes. Sam’s hand is warm in his.

“Don’t overthink it,” Dean reminds him. “It’s a date, but I’m still me.”

Sam nods, finally letting a smile peak through since they stepped outside.

Dean looks forward again, swinging Sam’s hand in his. A few minutes of comfortable silence stand between them as they walk, green trees swaying above them and the bright sunshine passing over their skin.

“So, movie first?”

“Yes,” Sam nods, squeezing Dean’s hand. “God, I’m so excited. When was the last time we were even in a theater?”

“I think I was ten. I convinced that old lady in the motel room next to ours to take us to that animated Disney movie.”

“I barely even remember that.” Sam laughs. “I can’t believe you liked Disney movies.”

“I was ten!”

“I bet you still like them,” Sam snickers.

“Only the good ones.”

“So, the princess ones, then?”

Dean growls playfully. “Shut up.”

“Cinderella?”

Dean tugs Sam closer, so they’re pressed together, arm to arm. “What do you know about Cinderella?”

Sam hums, leaning his head against Dean’s shoulder as they walk. Dean can feel his heart in his chest skip a few beats as he feels Sam’s fingers trace the underside of his wrist. “Only that she got the prince in the end. With a shoe, or something?”

Dean can’t help but laugh. “Something like that.”

They near the theater, and as it comes into view, Sam lets go of Dean to bound ahead, looking back every so often as if to ask, do you _see_ that? Can you believe it?

Dean is still trying to convince himself that this is real.

“Which one?” Sam asks, bouncing on his heels yet again, staring up at the movies and their show times at the kiosk. “What’s ‘Blood Wars?’ Is it scary?”

Dean shrugs. “I’ve never heard of any of these.”

Sam tugs at Dean’s wrist, pointing up at the titles. “What about ‘Late at Night.’ That can’t be scary, right?”

“Unless they mean monsters late at night, or something.”

Sam frowns. “What about—”

“Next!” a voice calls.

Sam and Dean step up to the ticket window, where a gangly teenage boy sits with a hand propping up his chin, looking utterly bored.

“Um,” Sam starts. “What’s ‘Late at Night’ about?” he asks the boy.

The boy drifts his eyes over to Sam. “Huh?”

“The movie,” Sam says. “Late at Night. What’s it about?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You been livin’ under a rock, or something?”

Dean frowns, leaning forward into the window. “Just answer the damn question.”

The boy looks at Dean and his eyes widen an inch, and he scoots back just enough for it to be noticeable. “It’s a new romantic comedy,” he squeaks. “A love story.”

Sam looks up at Dean expectantly, not at all phased by the now terrified employee. He must be used to the affect Dean can have on people when he wants to. “Let’s see that one.”

“Are you serious?” Dean asks, glancing at the movie title. “You don’t want to see something… cooler?”

Sam grins at him mischievously. “Nope. I want to see this one.”

Dean sighs and turns back to the teenage boy in the window. “Two for ‘Late at Night,’ then.”

The boy carefully hands them their tickets and change, avoiding Dean’s eye. “Second theater on the left. Enjoy the movie.”

Dean only grunts in reply.

“It’s the perfect date movie,” Sam informs him as they walk into the building.

“And how is that, exactly?”

“Romance,” he answers, matter of fact.

Dean looks over at Sam, sure he must be joking. But Sam’s got on the biggest grin on his face, his eyes shining, and Dean can’t find it in himself to care what movie they watch, as long as Sam is happy. His chest feels full to bursting as Sam practically skips beside him.

Dean buys them popcorn at the concession stand, and Sam practically drools when Dean hands it to him. They walk into the theater together, Sam dropping popcorn behind him in his haste to get some seats. Dean can only shake his head and laugh.

“Up here,” Dean motions, pointing up the stairs toward the back of the theater.

“Why?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised.

Dean grins. “Trust me.”

They sit in the very last row, right in the middle, a clear view of the entire theater from up here.

Sam looks at him with a mouthful of popcorn. “You have something planned.”

Dean puts a hand to his heart, mock offended. “Me? How can you even say that?”

Sam doesn’t answer, simply stretches himself out and lays his head on Dean’s shoulder like it’s nothing. Like they do this all the time. “Whatever. I don’t even care. This is amazing.”

“Yeah?” Dean puts his arm on the armrest between them, his fingertips brushing slightly against Sam’s. 

Sam nods.

It’s not long before the theater grows dark, and the movie starts. Dean can’t say he focuses on it, though. All he can really process is Sam’s wrist just barely brushing against his hand, Sam biting his lip as he watches the screen, the faint smell of Sam’s hair mingling with butter and salt, tickling against his nose.

Dean lets his eyes wander around the theater. He and Sam are the only ones in here, besides a couple sitting far up front, seeming to be absorbed in each other’s faces. Dean wrinkles his nose at them, but figures it’s not the most terrible idea in such an empty theater.

Plus, isn’t that why they’re in the back row?

Dean moves his hand, just a little, so that his fingers slide against Sam’s until they fit perfectly between each one of his. Sam looks down, at their fingers now twined together, and Dean catches the barest of smiles on his lips. Dean takes this as the go ahead, and lets himself trace Sam’s skin, fingers against the back of his palm. 

Sam takes a shaky breath as Dean shifts his hand so he can trail his fingers up and down his forearm. Goosebumps follow the trail he traces, Sam all the while watching Dean carve his path. 

When Dean squeezes his skin just slightly, Sam gives the softest of moans, and then Dean trails down, down, until he lays his hand on Sam’s thigh.

Sam’s reaction is immediate. He freezes, and he looks down at Dean’s hand and simply stares.

Dean lets his fingers trace over his jeans, pinching the fabric, and leans in close to Sam’s ear. “How’s the movie?”

Sam shivers. “W-what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, even as his hand movies higher up Sam’s leg. 

Sam gives a breathy, unsteady chuckle. “You sat us here on purpose.”

“Do you mind?” Dean asks honestly, pausing his movements to look at Sam’s face.

Sam’s eyes are slightly lidded, looking up at Dean through his lashes. He shakes his head. “No,” he breathes, leaning closer. “I don’t mind.”

Dean allows himself to continue his path up Sam’s leg. “Just making sure.”

Sam smiles, lips so close now, close enough that Dean can just feel them graze across his own. “I never mind,” Sam whispers.

It’s Dean’s turn to shiver. “Mm,” he hums, just as he presses his mouth to Sam’s, the pressure everything Dean could ever want. 

Sam sighs into his mouth, shifting closer, hands clutching at Dean’s shirt, pulling him forward. His tongue peeks out of his mouth, just enough to lick at Dean’s lips. Dean opens for him, letting Sam take control of the kiss, enjoying the way he licks inside his mouth and traces against his tongue. Dean gives a low groan, squeezing Sam’s thigh, raising his other hand to hold Sam’s face.

Sam leans his cheek into Dean’s palm, moaning softly as they separate for air. 

“How far can we go,” Sam demands, breathless, hips rising from the seat as Dean’s hand moves dangerously close to where they both want it.

Dean kisses Sam again, this time not letting him an inch of control as he takes his face in both hands and traces his tongue along his lips. Sam moans as he parts for him, Dean swallowing up the noise, tasting the fruity remains of breakfast on his tongue. He groans at the taste.

“As far as we can,” Dean whispers against his mouth, moving to his jaw, kissing his way down. “Just stay quiet.”

Then Dean feels a weigh press down on his crotch, and he can’t help but groan as he bucks up into it.

“You, too,” Sam laughs into his ear, his fingers around Dean’s hardening length.

Dean growls, biting down softly on the skin just under Sam’s ear, and Sam gasps. 

And then Dean slides off his chair and onto his knees, kneeling before Sam, looking up at him with a grin.

Sam’s eyes widen. “W-what—”

“Relax,” Dean whispers, hands on Sam’s thighs once again, moving up to the waistband of his jeans. “Watch the movie, Sammy.”

Sam leans his head back on his seat, eyes closing, chest moving with shallow breaths. “Oh god,” he whispers. “This is such a bad idea.”

Dean licks his lips as he reaches the buttons of Sam’s pants, tugging on them. “No, it isn’t.”

He pulls down Sam’s pants slowly, just enough to get what he needs, and despite Sam’s talk of bad ideas, he raises his hips for Dean so they can slide off. 

Sam is already painfully hard against his briefs, and Dean mouths at the bulge with wet lips. “You’re already leaking for me,” Dean says softly, kissing at the damp spot, and Sam’s hips jump. “I didn’t even touch you yet.”

“Shut up,” Sam breathes, head still back against the seat, eyes shut tight.

Dean finally slips Sam’s cock out, kissing the glistening head lightly, tasting pre-come on his lips. “You taste good,” he mumbles against the slick skin. He hears Sam moan softly, his hips raising slightly off the seat in search of Dean’s mouth. 

“Dean,” Sam whispers, voice strained. “ _Please_.”

Dean hums, licking a wet line up Sam’s shaft, tracing the veins there on the underside of his length. Dean catches Sam’s hands dig into the armrests of his seat, knuckles white from the effort, before taking Sam fully into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Sam gasps, legs trembling.

Dean squeezes Sam’s thighs in silent praise as he raises his mouth just to the head of his cock, swirling his tongue around it and pressing into the slit. Sam bucks into him, and Dean presses his thumbs into Sam’s hips to hold him down.

“Good, Sammy,” Dean tells him, kissing the head before moving down to mouth at his balls. “You’re doing so good, staying quiet for me.”

Sam can only hiccup a strangled moan in response, a sound that goes straight to Dean’s cock.

“Shit,” Dean groans, kissing the skin where Sam’s shaft begins. “I wish I could just take you right now, against the seats.”

“That w-wouldn’t be good,” Sam breathes, his hand moving to thread in Dean’s hair, dull nails scraping against his scalp, hips rising in search of Dean once again. “I wouldn’t be able to s-stay quiet.”

“I know,” Dean chuckles, biting at Sam’s thigh, then smoothing over the red mark with a swipe of his tongue. Sam shivers under his hands. “We’ll wait until later for that.”

Sam cries out, louder than what should be allowed, as Dean swallows him up again. Hopefully the movie covers that up. “This is gonna be a short date if you k-keep—” Sam yelps, back arching as he presses himself further into Dean’s mouth. He can taste Sam’s pre-come on his tongue, leaking out of him now, and he knows it won’t be much longer until Sam loses it.

So he grips Sam hard and moves over him faster, humming in satisfaction as Sam’s breathing quickens and his hand tightens to the point of it being painful in Dean’s hair.

“Dean,” Sam whimpers, and Dean’s cock twitches in his pants at the rawness in Sam’s voice, at how hard he’s trying to keep quiet. Dean promises himself then and there he’ll let Sam be as loud as he wants later. “Dean, I’m—I’m gonna—”

Dean grips Sam in silent acknowledgment. _Come_ , he tells Sam silently as he licks into his slit. _Come into my mouth, baby_.

Sam gives a strangled cry as he releases, warmth blooming into Dean’s mouth and Sam’s entire body trembling against the hands that continue to hold him down. 

“Shit,” Sam whimpers, the last of his orgasm dripping onto Dean’s tongue, salty and bitter, and so completely Sam’s. Dean swallows every last drop. “ _Fuck_.”

Dean kisses Sam’s softening cock one last time before helping his briefs and jeans back up, then sits back heavily in his seat beside him. He looks over at Sam, who looks so utterly satisfied as he looks back at him that Dean can’t help but lean over and give him a slow kiss.

Sam hums against him. “This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“This is the only date you’ve ever been on,” Dean points out, but he smiles against Sam’s lips anyway.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam says, digging his head into Dean’s shoulder until Dean relents and lays an arm over him, tucking him close to his side. “Still is.”

“I’m pretty sure we just wasted twenty bucks on movie tickets and didn’t pay attention to the movie.”

Sam shrugs. “I’m having fun. And look, the dead guy came back,” he says, pointing to the screen.

“I don’t think he ever died…” Dean says. “Isn’t this a romantic comedy?”

“Right,” Sam breathes a laugh. Then he looks up at Dean. “I can’t believe you just gave me a blowjob in a movie theater.”

Dean shrugs. “I wanted to.”

“Well, I want to,” Sam says, leaning into Dean. “Your turn?”

Dean just shakes his head and smiles, pecking Sam on the lips. “We’re on a date, Sammy. I can wait.”

“But you just—”

“Trust me,” Dean says, his voice low, lips grazing Sam’s ear, “we have plenty of time.”

Sam shuts up after that.

__

Later, after a late lunch at the local diner, Dean takes Sam to their second stop of the day.

“No way,” Sam breathes, staring up at the building they’ve just arrived at. He turns to Dean. “How did you find this place?”

“Small town,” Dean says, shrugging. “I just walked around.”

“I thought we’d have to skip this,” Sam says, smiling wide. “I didn’t think there’d even be one anywhere close to here!”

“We got lucky,” Dean agrees, grinning. He holds out his hand. “You coming?”

“Hell, yeah!” Sam shouts, grabbing Dean’s hand and dragging him inside. 

Dean is suddenly really glad he found this place.

“An arcade in the middle of nowhere,” Sam says in awe, eyes wide as they walk in. Sounds of gaming machines, children’s laughter, and the dull thrum of music in the background envelope the pair. “I really can’t believe it.”

“Buttfuck, Indiana,” Dean mutters, nodding. “Gotta hand it to them. This place is pretty sweet.”

And it is. Hundreds of different games line the walls, others scattered in random intervals around the space. Dean spots some of his favorites, then some he’s never even heard off, all with people milling around and laughing as they play. For a town this small, the place is packed. Dean figures playing arcade games is one of the only fun things to do around here.

“Oh my god,” Sam says suddenly, pointing frantically across the arcade. “An elevator. Dean, there’s a second floor!”

Dean laughs at Sam’s anticipation. “Let’s go get some coin,” he suggests.

“Tokens, Dean,” Sam corrects, pulling him along.

Dean buys more than he probably should, considering their dad doesn’t get back for another two days, but he kind of can’t help it after seeing the look of such utter excitement on Sam’s face. So, thirty dollars of tokens later, he lets Sam drag him along to all his favorite games.

Dean smokes him in anything that requires aim. Sure, Sam gives him a run for his money, but in terms of skill, Dean has him beat by a few years. He has the experience, after all. Zombie-shoot, corpse-killer, army-run, he’s hundreds of points ahead. Sam pouts after the fifth shooting game they play, crossing his arms at the screen.

“It comes with the job,” Dean shrugs.

“I’ll catch up,” Sam says pointedly. “Once I start coming with you.”

The words send a pang through Dean’s chest, and he struggles to shake it off. “Come on,” he says, bumping Sam’s shoulder with his own. “Let’s play something else.”

Sam wins at Foosball.

“Ha!” Sam laughs, grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like I _am_ better at aiming than you are!”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles, though he’s not really all that mad. Because Dean almost won. But one second he was ahead, and the next he couldn’t stop staring at the arch of Sam’s back, the curve of his ass, when he leaned forward to let go of the ball. He figures he shouldn’t tell Sam, though, that the only reason he lost was because of his lack of concentration.

Sam has a really nice ass, though. He couldn’t help but let his eyes linger.

It’s the strategy games where Sam absolutely decimates him, and Dean has a harder time accepting those defeats.

“You need to plan ahead!” Sam shouts, stabbing at his controls.

“Fuck planning ahead! That guy almost killed me!”

Sam cackles. “He wouldn’t have almost killed you if you planned ahead!”

“Fuck this,” Dean mutters, guiding his player farther down the path. “I’m going back to the house.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Sam says, grinning as the character on his own screen exits the forest. “You’d just be going back to where all those giant spiders are.”

“Why would they be there?!”

Sam shrugs. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Dean’s character gets eaten by said giant spiders only moments later. Sam laughs as Dean punches one of the buttons. Sam’s character makes it to the next day.

“This game is rigged.”

“Nope,” Sam chirps, pulling Dean to the elevator by his wrist. “You just didn’t pay attention to the details.”

“It’s a 2D game! There are no details!”

Sam grins at him as he presses the up button, then leans against the wall to wait. “Well, if you think that, that’s why you lost.”

Dean’s gut grows hot as he watches Sam bite his lip. “That’s why?”

“Yup,” Sam nods. “You’re shit at games like those.” His tongue pokes out to lick at his lips.

Dean clears his throat, his eyes caught on the shine Sam’s tongue leaves behind. Sam smirks at him, clearly not missing the heat behind Dean’s gaze, and shifts on his feet. His hands play with the hem of his t-shirt, and Dean doesn’t miss even the slightest of his movements.

The elevator dings.

“In,” Dean growls, grabbing Sam by the arms and pulling him inside.

The moment the doors close, Sam is up against the wall, Dean’s hands on his hips, mouth on his, lips demanding, pulling, needing. Sam moans against him, mouth parting, tongue searching and licking as his hands come up for grab at Dean’s hair. A shiver runs down Dean’s spine, all the way to his toes, as his hands fumble to hold Sam closer, push him up harder, grabbing, hard in his jeans, hot, so hot, breaths against his face. Sam is gasping, kissing frantically in between short breaks of air, and it only lasts seconds, barely even a minute, but it feels like an eternity and yet nothing at all, all at once.

And then the elevator dings, and they break apart, fast, opposite ends of the small space before the doors can even open.

Sam’s mouth is swollen, his shirt wrinkled and hiked up just a bit, so Dean can see the beginnings of skin just above his jeans. His gaze is swimming and glazed over when he looks at Dean, breathing hard, chest rising and falling. His hair sticks up at the ends, just around his ears. Dean hadn’t noticed he’d even been running his hands through it.

They step out of the elevator, and Sam looks away, all around the floor, anywhere but Dean.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he says quietly, smoothing out his shirt.

Dean nods, swallowing heavily, painfully aroused and knowing they can’t do a thing about it. Not yet, anyway. 

Sam walks away, but before he’s out of eyeshot, looks back at Dean, over his shoulder, and smiles, face flushed and eyes still so clearly wanting.

Dean swallows again. Catches his reflection in a nearby arcade-game screen. He honestly doesn’t look much better than Sam does. Hair a mess. Cheeks red. Eyes wide. He looks away and shakes his head, trying not to think about his hard cock in his jeans. _Not now. Not now_.

Sam meets him by the basketball game five minutes later.

“Better?” Dean asks.

“Let’s leave soon,” Sam replies stiffly, loading a few tokens into the game, then watching the basketballs release from the slot up above. He picks one up, tosses it from hand to hand. “I’m… uncomfortable.”

Dean gives a chuckle, but it sounds strained. “Soon. I don’t want to cut our date short just because—”

“Because we wanna fuck?” Sam finishes.

Dean chokes, catches Sam’s eye.

“I’d be fine with cutting our date short for that,” Sam says, smiling softly, looking back at the basket in front of him. “We’ve been here for almost two hours, anyway.”

Dean nods, not trusting his voice to come out right.

__

They end up playing for another hour and a half. After their third round of basketball, Sam seemed better, and Dean didn’t have the heart to suggest they leave, no matter how much blood was still rushing down south.

Sam didn’t make it easy. Every part of him called to Dean. His eyes, seeming just a bit brighter than they had in months. His lips, parted with the barest glimpse of pink tongue. His hips, almost swaying as he walked from game to game. His fingers, swiping through his hair. His legs, longer now than they were a year ago. He was still shorter than Dean, but only by a couple inches, now. As Dean looked at him when they walked up to air-hockey, he wondered just how tall Sam would end up being. Taller than him? The thought made him shiver. He wouldn’t mind that, not at all.

And now, it was evening, the sky darkened outside the windows of the arcade, foggy with age. They sit at a table back on the first floor (this time they stayed on their respective ends of the elevator, though Dean didn’t know if he was grateful or upset about that), Sam looking outside, chin on his hand. Discarded slices of pizza sit in front of them, barely a bite taken out of each. Dean wasn’t all that hungry. Sam just found the food gross.

“Do you—”

“Yes,” Sam interrupts, snapping his gaze to Dean’s. “Let’s go.”

The air is brisk when they get outside. The streets are empty, lights beginning to flicker alive up and down the sidewalks. Trees sway in the slight breeze, still warm enough that Dean was right not to bring a jacket.

“Hey,” Sam says, grabbing Dean by the hand, stopping him. His eyes are trained at the pavement.

Dean tilts his head, eyes watching the slight shadow Sam’s eyelashes cast on his cheeks.

“I’m tired, Dee,” he says softly.

The words bring back a flash of memory, vivid in his mind though he hasn’t heard the phrase in years. Dark nights, much like this, when they were small, just children. Sam hadn’t yet known just what Dad was away for, not yet. These were the nights he would carry little Sammy to bed, when the TV couldn’t keep him awake anymore, and Dean insisted it was time to sleep.

Dean grins at Sam, turning around, getting on a knee. “Hop on, Sammy.” Just like he used to say, all those years ago.

Sam’s arms slide around Dean’s neck, his chest flush against Dean’s back. He rises, and Sam’s legs come up to wrap around his waist. Dean holds Sam’s under his thighs, the perfect support, Sam safe in his arms, as he should be.

Sam buries his face in Dean’s neck as they begin to walk. Dean can feel him breathing against his skin, soft puffs of air.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” Dean says quietly, smiling to himself. 

“Felt like it,” Sam whispers into his neck, lips brushing against his ear. “Wanted to be close.”

Dean hums, watching their shadows fade in and out on the pavement as they walk under the streetlamps. There’s no sound for a while except Sam’s breathing, the faint buzz of the night all around them. 

“You asleep?” Dean asks as they near their motel, squeezing one of Sam’s thighs lightly.

Sam squeaks in his ear. “No, you ass,” he says, pinching Dean’s chest, probably meaning for it to be his nipple. “I’m awake. Of course I’m not asleep.”

“Just making sure,” Dean says, chuckling. 

They reach their motel door, and Dean digs for the key, all the while keeping Sam snuggly on his back. He finds it eventually, and fumbling, opens the door and closes it behind them.

He drops Sam carefully off on the bed, leaning back so Sam can let go of him and drop to the mattress with a soft _thump_. Dean turns around, then, to face him, crawling over him, on his hands and knees, Sam grinning up at him.

Dean kisses his forehead, both his cheeks, his chin, his nose, finally his lips. Once, twice, chastely, before kissing all over his face one more time. Sam giggles underneath him, pulling Dean closer by the loops in his jeans.

“Dean,” he whispers, leaning his head back against the mattress, neck arching. “Touch me.”

Dean obeys. 

Lips tracing against Sam’s throat, soft, hot, goosebumps rising. Tongue peeking out to taste him, the faint flavors of sweat and soap. He bites down softly by his collarbone, sucking, then licking to sooth the tenderness of the mark he creates. 

Sam moans, softly, almost nothing at all, fingers pressing into Dean’s back, drawing him closer. Dean lets his weigh settle over Sam, hard again in his jeans, letting Sam feel it. And when Sam gasps, Dean knows he does, lets Sam buck up into him, desperate, searching, wanting more, always more.

He peels off Sam’s clothes carefully. First his shirt, letting hands linger and lips trace, until it’s gone and on the floor and Sam is topless before him. Chest trembling with shaky breaths, goosebumps rising and nipples hard. 

Then are his jeans, drawn down slowly, past trembling thighs and legs, over his feet, thrown off into the room to accompany his shirt. He kisses the skin as it’s freed, his thighs, nipping at places until the skin is red, moans and sighs spilling from Sam’s mouth with each press of teeth, touch of tongue. 

His briefs are last. Hard and leaking within them, Sam begs for his brother, hands reaching, pressing, pulling. Dean feels breathless, seeing Sam like this, so wanting, desperate for him. His eyes are lidded as they look down at him, trailing along every line of Sam’s face, lips, eyes. 

“Dean,” Sam breathes, moans, gasps, “please. I n-need you. _Please_.”

And then his briefs are gone.

The bottle of lube, in his hands and out of them. Fingers slicked up, against Sam’s entrance. Pressing in, soft, delicate, “not enough,” Sam moans, grinding his hips down. Another finger inside, curling, stretching, “oh god,” Sam is shaking, legs shaking, all of him shaking, so close, his cock leaking pre-come on his stomach.

“I’m ready,” Sam insists. “Now, I’m ready. Need you so bad, Dean, need you inside me so bad.”

Dean withdraws his fingers from Sam, heart stuttering in his chest. He leans back on his heels, reaching for his shirt, eyes locked on Sam’s.

“Let me,” Sam stops him, rising slowly from the bed. “I want to.”

Unsteady hands take off Dean’s shirt, not as slow as Dean was, not as patient, not now, so close to what they both want, need. Dean helps him with his jeans, kicking them off when Sam gets distracted and kisses Dean on his neck. 

“Your stomach,” Dean whispers in his ear, hands on narrow hips.

Sam goes without hesitating, back to Dean now, chest against the mattress, on his knees but pressed down low, arms outstretched before him.

Dean traces a hand up his spine, stopping at the nape of his neck. “I love you like this,” he says softly, looking at Sam’s ass, up in the air, back arched for him beautifully. “I love you always. All the time.”

Sam shivers. “Dean,” he begs, quiet, voice so small.

Dean slicks up his cock, lays over Sam’s form, chest to back, knees on either side of Sam’s thighs holding up his weight. He lines himself up. He knows the moment Sam feels him against his hole, feels him shiver with anticipation. 

“Yes, Dean, _yes_.

Dean presses in, slowly, and Sam gives a long moan, breathy and light. Dean practically shakes as he goes, it feels so _good_ , heat in every part of him all at once, blooming. Then he’s all the way in, his entire length, and he pauses to let Sam adjust around him. Dean can feel him, twitching, tightening, and he groans as Sam moves back suddenly, ass pressing up against him hard.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hands fisting the sheets by Sam’s shoulders. “Sammy, you gotta—”

“Move,” Sam grits at him. “ _Move_.”

Dean pulls out slightly before moving back in, a slow thrust, and he knows in a moment it wasn’t enough for Sam, because Sam whimpers, pressing back again, gasping Dean’s name like it’s everything he needs to survive. 

Dean clenches his teeth at the feeling, restraining from going hard and fast, because he doesn’t think that’s what Sam wants right now, to finish this perfect day. Shouldn’t it be slow? Savory? A slow moment to—

“Dean, I need you to _fuck me_ ,” Sam demands, hips rolling against him. Dean groans at the sensation of his cock being dragged over by Sam’s tightness, hot and slick. “Hard,” Sam gasps. “ _Faster_. I want to _feel you_.”

“Oh, fuck,” Dean moans, and then he loses it, he can’t help it, he pulls out almost all the way and slams back in, hard enough for the bed to shake, for Sam to yelp in ecstasy.

“ _Yes_ ,” Sam gasps.

Dean holds Sam by his chest, his arm wrapped around him, as both an anchor and to pull him closer, to feel his warmth against him. He moves without abandon now, feeling every twitch of Sam around him, pulling him in, and Sam is moaning, gasping, begging for Dean not to stop, to never stop. How could he ever?

“So good,” Sam sobs, face half-pressed into the mattress. “So full. Feels so full, Dean.”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean pants out, adjusting his legs so he can pound into Sam faster, holding him tighter. “So tight around me, baby. Love it inside you. You feel me, deep inside?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sam replies. “I f-feel you. So d-deep,” he gasps. “Oh god, I’m close, Dean. I’m s-so close!”

Dean rolls his hips, aiming deeper, taking Sam by the hip to adjust the angle just right, and he knows he hits Sam’s spot just right when Sam shouts, sobbing, and comes suddenly, tightening around Dean and spilling all over the bed.

The tightness around him drives Dean over the edge, and he releases inside Sam, hot spurts, trembling and clutching at Sam as he empties. Sam moans as Dean rides out his orgasm, must be feeling the heat inside him. It makes Dean twitch at the thought, still inside Sam.

They drift off not long after. Sam’s back still against Dean’s chest, Dean’s arms around him and legs intertwined. Sticky and sweaty, Dean softening inside him.

“Sammy,” Dean whispers, desperate to hold on long enough to talk, for just a bit, but sleep is grabbing at him, tugging him under, and he can barely keep his eyes open against their strong hands.

“Mhhm,” Sam hums. “Sleep,” he mutters. “Iss’ okay. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Dean mumbles, pressing his lips to Sam’s sweaty neck, kissing, a soft bite.

Sam moans quietly, and that’s all Dean can hear before darkness surrounds him.

__

They wake together, the next day.

They shower together.

Bodies barely leaving each other’s side, those last two days. Kissing, unable to part. Dean is happy, so happy, he loves being this happy. Wants to feel this way forever. All the time.

“Love you so much,” he whispers in Sam’s ear, the day they leave, loading their stuff into the car. John itches to leave town, fingers tapping against the wheel in the front seat. Dean risks a kiss, just above the mark he made last night, just above Sam’s collar.

“Date again soon?” Sam asks hopefully, hazel eyes wide as he looks up at Dean.

“Soon,” Dean promises.

Sam’s smile keeps him company on the drive off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to leave a comment and a kudos! I love hearing from you guys (I'm an attention whore leave me alone except don't because I want a comment nom nom nom).  
> Love you all, and again, thanks for all your continued support! <3  
> xoxo DancesWithFiends

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to leave a comment and a kudos! I appreciate your thoughts!
> 
> Until next time!  
> danceswithfeinds xx


End file.
